


At The Window

by IHaveNoUsernameCreativity



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Arguments, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Bickering, Break Up, Brotp, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fighting, Flirting, Fluff, Futakuchi is an awkward mess, Heavy Angst, IwaOi is here for a bit but not for long :), KuroYaku is very to the side, Kuroo and Oikawa are best friends, Like it's basically just mentioned, M/M, Maybe??? idk if it counts as flirting, Mental Health Issues, Mild Smut, Not literally, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, TeruEnno is more upfront, Terushima and Futakuchi are best bros, Terushima can actually be wise, They're also roommates, Ushijima is only there for like two scenes, a lot of angst i promise you, but also a lot of fluff, but in a good way?, he has to be good at advice or Futakuchi would die, i can't tag, i don't know what else to tag without too many spoilers, i think it's slow burn???, if you squint Iwaizumi is a dick, ig i have to tag this tho, it's obvious it happened but it's not like... that explicit, my friend who looked at my outline said i'm going to kill anyone who reads this, this is mostly through Futakuchi's POV with the occasional Oikawa scene sprinkled in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:27:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHaveNoUsernameCreativity/pseuds/IHaveNoUsernameCreativity
Summary: Futakuchi sees someone at the window.
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Oikawa Tooru, Side Relationship - Ennoshita Chikara/Terushima Yuuji
Comments: 52
Kudos: 32





	1. Countdown

03.

The air is burning.

02.

His lungs are burning.

01.

"OIKAWA!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futakuchi Kenji is starting his college life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than I expected.

**130.**

The gravel seemed sharper than usual under Futakuchi's feet. Every ghost of a bump nudged into the outsoles of his shoes, making him hyperaware of where he stood. It felt like stepping on dulled needles, a sensation moving up from the bottom of his feet and sliding up his spine, ending with the rise of goosebumps on his neck. His stomach churned like a small boat being thrown around in an upset sea. He let out a huff, annoyed that he couldn't settle into his own skin.

In front of him was the entrance into the college's campus. His college's campus was a more accurate phrasing. _'Wow, Kenji, You've been here before for the campus tour. It's not that intimidating.'_ Futakuchi shouldered his book bag and adjusted his grip on his suitcase. Still, the size of the college almost seemed to swallow him whole with gaping jaws. He glared at the college, taking how intimidating the college was as a personal offense.

 _'I am_ not _nervous.'_

Futakuchi finally stepped onto campus, kick starting his college life.

**129.**

_'I. Hate. Stairs,'_ The thought intensified in Futakuchi's mind as he hauled his suitcase up the last flight of steps. Of course his first day had to start like this. Of course he had to get a dorm on the top floor. Of course the dormitory has six floors. Of course the dormitory doesn't have a fucking elevator even though the university was prestigious. Of course.

Futakuchi took a pause, letting go of his suitcases in favor of resting his hands on his knees and letting out a groan. His hands were so clammy his pants stuck to them like opposing magnets as soon as Futakuchi rested his hands on his knees. He sucked in a breath, waiting until his lungs ached from holding so much air before releasing it. Straightening up, he grabbed his suitcases and started his treacherous journey down the hallway to find his dorm. The burning sensation in his Futakuchi's thighs that continued from his trip up the stairs was even more annoying than Futakuchi himself could ever be.

He saw the occasional freshmen like him wandering in search of their dorm, but it was mostly quiet. He passed a dorm that had shouting pumping out of it like an EDM beat. His instincts told his to snoop a little bit just out of curiosity but common sense told him to keep looking for his dorm. The soft undertones of the wheels of his suitcases rolling along the floor filled his ears, but made everything sound even more muted. His eyes followed the numbers growing as he ventured further down. The burn from the stairs sizzled down to a slightly numbing feeling tingling in his legs.

 _'There,'_ Futakuchi zeroed in on his dorm after a short calculation based on the dorm number he just passed. He came to a stop in front of his dorm room. He double checked the number. 622. He let out a sigh of relief before fumbling for his dorm room key and unlocking the door.

The door swung open without a sound and Futakuchi stepped into the room, looking around. He spotted someone face down on one of the beds. He instantly recognized the mess of dyed blonde hair and black shirt.

"Teru?" Futakuchi asks, just making sure. He wouldn't be surprised if the universe was trying to fuck him over.

Terushima's head shot up from his pillow. His brown eyes leapt up to meet Futakuchi's and he practically glowed. He jumped off the bed, landing with a light tap against the floor. He ran up to Futakuchi, pulling him into a hug. One of Futakuchi's suitcases tipped over and fell to the side.

"BRO! YOU'RE MY ROOMMATE?!" Terushima's voice was drenched in excitement.

"I didn't know you were trying to kill my ears," Futakuchi commented, covering the ear Terushima had shouted into.

"Sorry, dude!" Terushima flashed his all to bright grin and grabbed Futakuchi's suitcases. "Did you also voyage up all those flights of stairs with too much stuff."

"Don't even say such a cursed word around me," Futakuchi scoffed.

"Uh... we're talking about the word stairs, right?" Terushima lifted Futakuchi's suitcases onto what Futakuchi assumed was his bed.

"You're going to summon demons with that cursed word," Futakuchi flopped right on top of his suitcases instead of moving them out the way.

It wasn't the most comfortable, and one of the wheels was digging right into where his leg connected to his hip. But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"And you call _me_ the drama queen?" Terushima asked.

"Yup," Futakuchi said.

"But seriously! What luck that we're roommates!" Terushima changed topics just as quickly as Futakuchi remembered. "I thought we were lucky enough going to the same college!"

"Yeah. When I saw you I considered that maybe the universe was fucking with me and it wasn't actually you," Futakuchi rolled off his suitcase, falling into the small gap between the suitcase and the edge of his bed.

"I think I look recognizable enough," Terushima frowned, "I don't see anyone else with bleached hair and piercings."

"Yeah, no one can look as desperate to look like a bad boy as you but I was just making sure because the universe is a bitch," Futakuchi mumbled.

Terushima punched Futakuchi lightly. "Excuse you! I don't see you attracting boys and girls like I do."

"It's because they're too much of a difference of me to other people."

"What, you're worse than them?"

"No, I'm too good for them."

Terushima laughed, clear and bright. Similar to bursting soda after you shake it too much when Futakuchi really thought about it. Terushima pushed Futakuchi's thigh with his foot. Futakuchi groaned as Terushima persistently bothered him.

"Get up. I'll help you unpack," Terushima said.

"No," Futakuchi grumbled. "Later."

"Fine." 

Futakuchi was pretty sure Terushima rolled his eyes at him. But he didn't find himself caring. Instead, he closed his eyes and let everything sink into his mind.

**128.**

One week of college. That was _hectic_. Futakuchi had barely started to balance time by himself, time with Terushima, time in lectures, and time to do his work before Terushima had burst into their dorm one day, screeching about how the volleyball club finally accepting freshmen. Apparently, freshmen had to spend one week adjusting to college life before joining any clubs. If it was Futakuchi making the decisions, he would've given freshmen two weeks.

"Ugh, why does practice have to be in the evening? I barely finish my lectures before we need to go," Futakuchi complained, walking next to Terushima.

"Because no one has evening classes," Terushima blew a bubble with his bubble gum.

Futakuchi watched as Terushima kept blowing till it burst, blanketing his lips. Terushima dragged the thinned out, pale pink gum into his mouth before he continued to talk.

"It's your fault for being dumb enough to actually want afternoon classes."

"I don't want to wake up just to go to morning lectures," Futakuchi defended himself.

"Then you made your choice, didn't you? So why're you complaining?" Terushima started to blow another bubble.

Terushima was surprising blunt. Like expecting to walk through a door and then not paying attention and slamming into a wall instead. That was the best Futakuchi could describe it. When he first met Terushima, he expected laid back and easy going. Which he did get, but he also was handing bluntness and using logic as well as the occasional sarcasm. Futakuchi didn't mind; it just made Terushima more compatible as his friend. Futakuchi reached over and popped the bubble Terushima was blowing. Terushima glared at Futakuchi as he once again reeled the gum back into his mouth.

"That was going to be my biggest bubble yet!" Terushima pouted.

Futakuchi dodged a kick Terushima sent his way, hopping to the side causally. He gave Terushima a devilish smile.

"Too bad," Futakuchi snickered.

A pink blur shot at Futakuchi. He ducked and it went past where his head was a second ago. Terushima clicked his tongue and kept walking. Futakuchi glanced around and spotted a wad of fresh gum on the pavement. He ran after Terushima.

"Dude, you did _not_ just spit gum at me," Futakuchi tried to shove Terushima but Terushima skipped ahead. "What the fuck."

Terushima shrugged and picked up the pace. "Come on, we're going to be late."

"Yeah, because _you_ overslept-" Futakuchi caught himself getting distracted. "But what if that gum had gotten into my hair?!"

"That was kinda what I was aiming for," Terushima said.

"I would've had to cut my hair!"

"So? You deserve it."

"Teru, I _popped your bubble_. That does not deserve me getting a cringy haircut in my first week of college!"

"Yes, it does."

"I'm leaving a spider in your bed."

"I'll cut it up into itty bitty bits and sprinkle it into your breakfast."

Futakuchi snorts but before he respond with a comeback, Terushima offered his a piece of gum. Futakuchi huffed but accepted the peace treaty, unwrapping it.

"I bet I can blow a bigger bubble than you," Terushima nudged Futakuchi.

"Challenge accepted."

**127.**

In the end, Futakuchi was three minutes late and had a wet spot on his shirt from rubbing off bubble gum. The shirt was sitting in the club room, folded in his bag. Futakuchi fiddled with the sleeves of his practice clothes, while Terushima opened the door to the gym. A group of people in the gym turned to look at them as they entered. Futakuchi looked around, surveying the floors and how big the gym was. It was a nice gym.

"Sorry we're late," Terushima said meekly.

He kicked Futakuchi in the shin and Futakuchi glared at Terushima before bowing. "Sorry."

"It's fine. We were just about to start," A redhead, who Futakuchi assumed was the captain, spoke first. "You didn't miss anything."

Futakuchi and Terushima walked over to the group and found their way next to the other first years.Futakuchi surveyed his fellow first years. There was one kid who was fidgeting endlessly, one with a bright smile on his face, and a blond who had a poker face. Futakuchi then looked at his new senpais.

"We'll introduce ourselves first," the redhead spoke again with a sweet smile. "I'm the current captain of this team..."

The words faded into the background, when Futakuchi's eyes befell a certain someone. Brown hair seemingly too perfectly placed to not be intentional. Eyes still as striking, vivid, and cocky as ever. An easygoing smile that made Futakuchi feel the exact opposite. Futakuchi couldn't help but stare, annoyance already boiling in his stomach, popping with quiet hisses. Futakuchi's lips formed a tight line when the smile was directed to him and curved up a bit more, followed by a subtle wave.

Futakuchi had let his guard down too quickly. He relaxed because Terushima ended up as his roommate, and the universe took that chance to fuck him over when he was least expecting it. Of course. Of course this is how the universe had to work.

"Hi, I'm Oikawa Tooru. I'm a second year and I play setter," Oikawa's smile reminded Futakuchi of rotten sugar. Vivid brown eyes locked with Futakuchi's own. "It's nice to meet you."

**126.**

Of all people, it had to be _Oikawa Tooru_. The one cocky ass bitch that Futakuchi could not stand, even after not seeing him since haruko of his second year. The pompous, fake as all hell, cocky without a reason, irking, bothersome, annoying, obnoxious, infuriating _Oikawa_.

Futakuchi clenched his jaw around his water bottle, drinking the water quicker. It really didn't help that Oikawa was apparently going to be the starting setter. Terushima was off socializing and buzzing around some loud libero and the quiet kid with a poker face. He glared at the floor, wishing his face could actually express the rage sounding off like fireworks in his mind.

"If you keep that look on, your face is going to get even uglier, Futa-Chan," A voice chirped and Futakuchi looked up.

Futakuchi stop leaning on the wall and gave Oikawa a thin smile. "Don't worry, _Oikawa-San._ I'm sure no matter how ugly I get, I can't possibly look worse than you. Thank you for the concern, though."

Something sparked in the depths of Futakuchi's eyes. Futakuchi wanted to reach out and grab that feeling, to see what it was. But Oikawa's eyes were unlit tunnels. The further Futakuchi would stray, the darker it would get until he would be lost in them. So Futakuchi stuck with the basics of whatever he saw in Oikawa's eyes.

_Game on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahah yeah I kinda did that. You won't see what the first chapter is about until this very long countdown is over. But I think over time you can easily guess what's gonna happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Futakuchi and Oikawa bicker more. Also, angst plots start to reveal themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I started dropping hints on some things in this chapter, but idk if they're subtle or not tbh. Futakuchi and Terushima being bros spiraled more out of hand than I expected. And the title of this fic starts to vaguely make sense. This chapter felt kinda trash but that's because the interesting stuff isn't happening quite yet.
> 
> Also, I had to make OCs for the people on the volleyball team even though I don't really like making OCs. There's a lot of exposition about them in bullet point 121. I had to :/

**125.**

"Teru, do you have a lethal weapon?" Futakuchi grumbled, face down on his bed.

Terushima glanced up from his phone. "Depends on who you're trying to kill."

"Myself," Futakuchi pulled his pillow over his head.

"No lethal weapons over here," Terushima said.

"Okay. What if I'm trying to kill Oikawa motherfucking Tooru?" Futakuchi asked.

"I'd really consider it, but isn't he our starting setter?" Terushima unwrapped yet another stick of bubblegum. "Isn't that detrimental to our team?"

" _He's_ the starting setter?" Futakuchi sat up, the pillow tumbling to the floor. "You're kidding me."

"He literally said he was the starting setter during the introductions," Terushima rolled his eyes. "Were you paying attention?"

"Nope," Futakuchi popped the 'p.'

"Were you too busy giving Oikawa-San the lovey dovey eyes?"

Futakuchi sputtered, trying to form words but his tongue seemed to act like a repellent to the thoughts bursting like firecrackers in his mind. Terushima raised an eyebrow in response before a grin started to creep onto his face. Speechless, Futakuchi settled for a solid glare.

"I was _glowering_ , thank you," Futakuchi hissed.

"Nah, man," Terushima laughed. "You were just staring."

" _Glowering_."

" _Staring_."

"Dude, are you blind? And you know I absolutely _despise_ him," Futakuchi sighed. "I don't know where you got "lovey dovey eyes" out of my immense hatred."

"Mm, sexual tension?" Terushima shrugged.

"Sexual-" Futakuchi's eyes glimmered with absolute disgust. "Teru, are you high or something? Me??? Attracted to Oikawa-San??? Disgusting."

"I mean, even if you hate him it doesn't change the fact that he's hot," Terushima pointed out.

"I didn't think you had such bad taste in men," Futakuchi scrunched up his nose in distaste.

"Yeah, I kinda do," Terushima shrugged. "Sometimes I end up liking total brats or asshole people. And I will admit that I have a thing for brunettes."

"Ennoshita is a decent person though. So he's, like, your one exception?" Futakuchi grinned when Terushima glared at him.

The glare rolled off Futakuchi like a raindrop of a glass pane. He had grown immune to Terushima's glares and they especially weren't threatening when Terushima was obviously blushing. He found it amusing that Terushima looked like a pouting child more than anything else.

"Shut up," Terushima grumbled.

"Am I wrong, though?" Futakuchi's grin turned even more devilish. "I mean, you usually have the most shit taste in people, especially guys. Yet the first time you're completely floored is by someone who isn't a dick. You're such a smitten wil child."

"Wow. I suddenly have a lethal weapon to kill someone with," Terushima deadpanned.

"I'm just pointing out your plain puppy crush and total _adoration_ of Ennoshita. You're already practically nonexistent bad boy act is crumbling even more," Futakuchi teased.

Futakuchi barely caught the blur of, this time, yellow before it hit his face. Futakuchi glanced down when he realized that this object wasn't nearly as soft or nonthreatening as bubblegum. He rolled his eyes as Terushima blew a bubble with his gum.

"Dude, you did not just throw your phone at me," Futakuchi said.

Terushima narrowed his eyes. "At least it made you stop acting like a petulant baby."

"You're the one who threw a fucking _phone_ because you were being teased about your huge ass crush," Futakuchi scoffed.

"And you're the one who was teasing me about my crush because I exposed the fact you think Oikawa-San is hot," Terushima got up his bed. "Now give me my phone back."

"After you oh so aggressively gifted it to me?" Futakuchi flipped Terushima's phone over, studying Terushima's bright yellow phone case. "Though I might switch out this phone case since it's so cringy."

"It's better than your plain ass black phone case. Now give me my phone. I don't want to force you," Terushima warned.

"I'd like to see you try."

Terushima tackled Futakuchi, knocking the breath out of him. Futakuchi instinctively stretched out his arm, keeping the phone out of Terushima's reach. A harsh stinging started up on his arm when Terushima's nails dug into his skin. Futakuchi squirmed under Terushima, trying to shove him off.

"What are you, a rabid animal?" Futakuchi grunted when Terushima's knee pressed into his stomach.

"Give my phone back!" Terushima hissed.

Futakuchi's grappled for a grip on Terushima's shirt before successfully dragging Terushima off of him. Terushima yelped when he skirted the edge of the bed, grabbing onto Futakuchi's arm. Futakuchi managed to evade being knocked down and held the phone high up in the air, far out of Terushima's reach. Terushima let out a growl, attempting to reach his phone. Terushima shoved Futakuchi, causing Futakuchi to fall back on his bed. Terushima crawled over Futakuchi grabbing onto his phone. Futakuchi stopped playing defense and yanked Terushima down before flipping them over, sitting on Terushima's stomach.

"That's not fucking fair!" Terushima shouted. "Get off of me, you heavy piece of shit!"

"When did I say I play fair?" Futakuchi smirked, waving Terushima's phone in front of Terushima teasingly.

Terushima spat in Futakuchi's face before heaving upwards, startling Futakuchi. Futakuchi frantically wiped the saliva off his face. Terushima took the opportunity to snatch his phone back, leaping away from Futakuchi.

"What the fuck. Some of that got into my mouth!" Futakuchi chucked a pillow at Terushima.

Terushima side stepped the pillow. "Shut up, you bratty asshole. It's your own fault that you wouldn't give me back my phone."

"Then you shouldn't have thrown your phone at me!"

"Then you shouldn't have teased me for liking Ennoshita!"

"Then you shouldn't have been dumb enough to think I would ever like Oikawa-San!"

"You really don't?" Terushima raised an eyebrow. "Damn, I was convinced you did."

"I don't!" Futakuchi rolled his eyes. "Hell, I'm going to avoid him like he's the plague."

"Have fun with that, I guess."

**124.**

Avoid Oikawa at all costs. Well, that's what Futakuchi had _planned_ to do. But the more he thought about Oikawa and the challenge in his eyes when they spoke for the first time in over a year, the more Futakuchi was compelled _not_ to avoid Oikawa. Dragged in like an asteroid by the gravity of a planet. A feeling settling deep into his gut with a burning drive to respond to that challenge. Futakuchi didn't know how to back down when Oikawa was such a condescending piece of shit. He couldn't help that he wanted to wipe that cocky look off Oikawa's face so badly. Which is why when he caught Oikawa on his phone during practice, he was next to Oikawa and opening his mouth before he was even aware of it.

"Wow! Does Oikawa-San have an actual life?"

"Huh?" Oikawa glanced up from his phone, his eyes locking with Futakuchi's. Futakuchi wasn't sure, but Oikawa's mouth seemed to barely tilt upwards.

"You're on your phone in the middle of practice. I thought your ego was so inflated because you're so dedicated to volleyball it makes you think you're better than everyone else?" Futakuchi smiled innocently.

Oikawa mirrored Futakuchi's smile. "I can be dedicated to multiple things, Futa-Chan. I'm just seeing if I got any texts from my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Futakuchi gasped loudly. "Wait, someone actually wants you???"

"Says the one who's single," Oikawa retorted, leaning against the wall.

"You don't know that."

"Am I wrong?" Oikawa raised an eyebrow gracefully.

Which is kind of stupid since raising an eyebrow should never be graceful.

Futakuchi placed a hand on his chest proudly. "I'm single because no one's good enough for me."

Oikawa's eyes sparked and his lips curved upwards, much more noticeably this time. A small chuckle escaped, soft and quiet like a gentle breeze on a hot summer's day. Oikawa cut himself off with a cough, his eyes darting away from Futakuchi.

"My, my, Oikawa-San. Do you actually enjoy my company?" Futakuchi smirked.

"I don't remember being the one who initiated this conversation," Oikawa pointed out.

Futakuchi opened his mouth to counter, but found that he had run dry of comebacks. Worst. Timing. Ever. Oikawa's smile turned smug as Futakuchi huffed, crossing his arms. Oikawa promptly put his phone away, patting Futakuchi on the shoulder as he walked away. Futakuchi made exaggerated gagging noises while brushing off his shoulder. Oikawa responded with a laugh, not bothering to hide it this time. Futakuchi's eyes followed Oikawa as he strolled away. Kuroo nudged Oikawa, whispering something only to get smacked by Oikawa.

Futakuchi was slammed out of his trance when a sudden pain bursted in his side. Terushima slung an arm over Futakuchi shoulder, his side pressed against Futakuchi's arm. Terushima grinned, lopsided and loud like saturated colors.

"Dude, how hard do you have to elbow me?" Futakuchi complained.

"Sorry, bro," Terushima didn't look the slightest bit apologetic, his grin growing wider. "Maybe if you weren't staring at Oikawa-San you would've been able to dodge it?"

Futakuchi shrugged Terushima off, opting to take a drink from his water bottle. Terushima bounced around him, throwing an occasional jab at Futakuchi's stomach. Terushima easily jumped away from Futakuchi's attempts to kick him.

"Sooo," Terushima's eyes shimmered mischievously, "what was that about avoiding Oikawa-San?"

Futakuchi tilted his water bottle up more, letting the cool water fill his mouth and sit on his tongue. He turned to Terushima and sprayed all the water out in Terushima's face. Terushima shrieked, shrill and unpleasant. Futakuchi let out a cackle of his own, only for Terushima to squirt his own water bottle in Futakuchi's face.

"Teru, you piece of shit!"

"You did it first! At least I didn't spit water right out of my fucking mouth!"

"Futakuchi. Terushima. Calm down and please watch your language," The captain chided lightly.

"Sorry!" Terushima said. He looked at Futakuchi. "This is your fault."

"No, it's yours."

"I was pointing out the truth!" Terushima pouted. "It's not my fault that you're contradicting yourself. Saying you won't talk to him and then talking to him."

"Shut _up_ ," Futakuchi shoved Terushima.

Futakuchi didn't like how his face felt a little warm.

**123.**

"Futa, you good?" Terushima mumbled.

Futakuchi glanced up from his computer. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nah, man. 'm hungry," Terushima sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Terushima stretched, letting out a weird, high pitched noise as he did. Futakuchi grabbed a bag of chips from the pile of snacks next to him and threw it across the room. Terushima's right hand flashed out and he caught it with ease, despite his eyes being so lidded that Futakuchi couldn't see the warm chocolate brown in the dim lighting. Terushima kicked off his blanket, making it slide off the edge of his bed, forming a makeshift waterfall.

"What time is it?" Terushima asked.

Futakuchi glanced at the corner of his computer screen. "One twenty two."

"Holy shit, it's late," Terushima paused, sluggishly shoving chips into his mouth. "Wait... it's just really early."

"Mm," Futakuchi hummed, shifting his focus back to his computer.

"Dude, you should get some sleep," Terushima yawned.

"I'll sleep through the morning," Futakuchi waved off Terushima's advice.

"You're becoming nocturnal."

"So?"

"Don't you think you should sleep a bit more?"

Futakuchi looked up at Terushima again. His dyed blonde hair wasn't styled the way he loved so much, and instead was disheveled, a random tuft sticking out here and there. Terushima tucked his knees up, resting his cheek on them, and stared right back at Futakuchi. Futakuchi considered Terushima's words for a few moments.

"I'm sleeping perfectly fine. I just sleep through the morning instead," Futakuchi shrugged. "I finish working on this stuff around two, sleep until nine, wake up, eat breakfast, sleep more, eat lunch, and go to class."

"Ugh... do the math for me?" Terushima grumbled, his brows furrowing.

"I thought you were the smarter one?"

"Not until I've been awake for an hour."

"Two to nine is seven hours. Plus sleeping until lunch is almost three more."

"Oh."

Terushima crammed four chips into his mouth at once. The faint crunching noise as Terushima ate weakly battled the silence of the still night. Futakuchi deemed the conversation over and returned to typing away on his computer. A few minutes dragged out with the meek sounds decorating the silence. Futakuchi glanced up when he heard Terushima get up and watched Terushima pulled on a pair of short before flopping onto Futakuchi's bed.

"Mph... what was I gonna say again?" Terushima rolled onto his back.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Magic," Terushima answered dryly. "It was a question directed at myself."

"Then don't stare at me while asking it," Futakuchi said.

Terushima ignored Futakuchi. "Oh, right... Why don't you just do your work in the morning?"

"I'm smarter at night than in the morning," Futakuchi didn't know if he should be looking at Terushima or his computer. "Besides, doing work right after waking up is the worst."

Another minute passed and Futakuchi stared to forget Terushima was right next to him. The only reminder was soft breathing and the occasional sound of shifting. He opened a pack of sour gummies and picked away at them.

"I can't spend that much time with you if you sleep through the mornings," Terushima murmured blearily.

"You're at morning lectures in the morning," Futakuchi pointed out.

"I'm usually back around 11 but then you're just sleeping until twelve thirty," Terushima's voice tinged whiny. "That's a whole hour and a half we could've spent hanging out."

"Bro, we literally dorm together and go to the same club. We already spend a lot of time together," Futakuchi deadpanned.

"It's not the same. I want some designated bro time," Terushima attempted to smack Futakuchi's arm but it felt more like a gentle pat.

"Then wake me up," Futakuchi rolled his eyes. "You get back at eleven, right? I would've already gotten a little over eight hours of sleep."

"I'm waking you up tomorrow," Terushima declared.

"Then you should go back to sleep," Futakuchi said. "You're distracting me too."

"Sorry that I'm so hot you can't look away," Terushima let out a soft chuckle.

"Sure, bad boy wannabe," Futakuchi snorted. "Go back to your bed."

"I don't want to move."

Futakuchi stopped typing to glare at Terushima. Terushima had the nerve to grin back at him. Futakuchi groaned and kicked Terushima lightly. Terushima responded by pushing his foot up Futakuchi's shirt.

"Holy shit, your feet are cold!" Futakuchi leapt away from Terushima, settling into the corner of his bed. "It's spring! Your feet shouldn't be frozen!"

"It's natural talent," Terushima noticed Futakuchi had moved off the blanket and took the chance to grab the edge and throw it over himself.

"If you're going to invade my bed, at least properly get under the blankets, idiot."

"I am under the blanket."

"You're still on top of the other half of it."

"Who cares."

Futakuchi sighed. "I guess I'm sleeping in your bed tonight."

"Yay, bed trade off," Terushima said unenthusiastically as Futakuchi moved over to his bed. "Good night, Futa."

"Night."

**122.**

Futakuchi slowly closed his computer, yawning. He breathed in through his nose, but all he smelled was Terushima. Terushima's smell was just as strong as his bold personality, and even Terushima giving Futakuchi a ten minute cuddle left a lingering scent on Futakuchi's clothes. Futakuchi placed the scent as honey and mint, but he was never quite sure. Sometimes Terushima smelled like summer and sunshine, though that wasn't a tangible smell. Other times it was more like the distinct scent of salt at an ocean. Futakuchi wasn't sure what magic Terushima was using, but everything about his changed as sporadically as his personality.

Either way, it wasn't like Terushima smelled _bad_ , per se, but his smell was bold. Futakuchi had fallen asleep tangled up with Terushima during sleepovers plenty of times, but this was quite different. The sheets, the blankets, the pillow, and even Futakuchi's own clothes by now, smelled like Terushima. It was enveloping him and it wasn't exactly suffocating, but it kept him on edge. He glanced over at Terushima.

Terushima clearly didn't have the same issue, since his face was buried in Futakuchi's pillow and an occasional soft snore escaping him. Futakuchi narrowed his eyes, wondering if he should just kick Terushima off his bed. But Terushima probably smeared his smell all over Futakuchi's bed as well, by now. Today, the smell of honey was particularly overpowering with only the vaguest wisp of mint clinging on. Futakuchi watched Terushima mumble something, his head moving to the side. He decided he wouldn't disturb Terushima, letting him have his blissful rest. Futakuchi had a passing thought about how he smelled. Terushima never really clarified when he had asked.

_"You smell like you."_

_"That tells me_ so _much."_

_"What do you want me to say?"_

_"Something more detailed?"_

_"Eh. You smell soft. Like comfort and hugs."_

_"That's not helping either, idiot."_

_"You said I smell like_ sunshine _and_ summer _."_

_"I also said honey and mint."_

_"I don't know. You smell like fabric softener, old books, burning firewood, and the forest after rain. Occasionally like homemade cookies and blankets."_

_"That sounds awfully poetic."_

_"That's just how you smell. Why do you care anyways?"_

_"I was just wondering."_

_"Let's just say you smell as nice as you are a bitch."_

Not an exact measurement, but based on his calculations after receiving that information, he smelled _extremely_ nice. Terushima also said he smelled "soft," so did that mean his smell was gentle in a way? That would explain why Terushima was out cold while Futakuchi shifted around being completely surrounded by neon honey. Futakuchi didn't know why he felt so awkward now that Terushima's smell was coming from all directions. He lost count of the amount of times he'd awoken on the floor of Terushima's bedroom with either Terushima on top of him, or him on top of Terushima. Futakuchi sighed, kicking off the blanket.

He placed his computer on his desk, right next to Terushima's, pushed up to be right under the window. Futakuchi fixed up a few stray note littered loose leaf papers and took a deep breath. It didn't really help to clear his mind much, so Futakuchi leaned over the desks in order to open the window. His fingers curled under the rail of the window and with a soft grunt, he forced his sluggish muscles to open the window.

Fresh air spilled into the room, brush against Futakuchi's arms and torso as it spread around the room. Futakuchi closed his eyes, pressure forming in his head from staring at his computer for the past few hours. He was hyper aware of his eyelids pressing onto his eyes. The ambient silence was something Futakuchi could appreciate after working practically nonstop. He pulled out his desk chair, the slight chill of the chair buzzing against his fingers.

Futakuchi plopped into the chair, letting the night breeze meet with his face. It zapped the warmth from his cheeks and left his senses tingling enough for him to stay awake. Futakuchi cracked an eye open, surveying the view.

The dormitory was formatted like a square missing one side. So like cutting an H in half? Futakuchi couldn't be bothered to come up with a good description. From his dorm, he could see more dorms across from him. A courtyard sat in the middle of the dormitory, filled with flowers and such. It probably sucked to have pollen allergy with that courtyard just sitting there, blooming and spraying pollen everywhere.

Futakuchi's eyes caught onto a window on the forth floor. It was the only dorm with lights on, as far as Futakuchi could tell. And not only that, there was a silhouette of a person standing there. Futakuchi squinted but he was too far away to determine who it was. Not that he knew a lot of people anyways. All he could tell was the person was tall and male, since this was the male dormitory. Futakuchi guessed the person had the same idea he did, and just did all their work at night instead of during the day. Futakuchi didn't know what intrigued him so much, but he couldn't help but watch the person. The florescent light was a stark contrast to the shadow it cast over the person's body.

Futakuchi knew he should probably go to sleep but he didn't. Instead, he waited for the person at the window to turn and walk away, and then the light was flicked off. Futakuchi gazed at the window where the person was for a few moments before standing and heading back to Terushima's bed. He threw the blanket over himself before letting the exhaustion crash over him and knock him out.

**121.**

Futakuchi was starting to get the hang of the names of everyone in the volleyball club. Terushima had told them all their names a few days back but it took a while for the names to stick in Futakuchi's memory. The pretty, pale blonde, half-foreign, straight faced guy was Yokozawa, a first year. He played libero. The loud one that was constantly around Yokozawa with black hair that tinted purple in a spiky mess was Yamada, a second year libero. The shy one with caramel skin and bright hazel eyes was Saito, a first year setter. The other first year was Kawaguchi, a optimistic middle blocker with hair and eyes a few shades lighter than Oikawa's. His hair was curly and long, so he always wore painfully neon headbands to keep it out of his eyes.

The name of the middle blocker redhead captain was Takahashi. Takahashi was always calm and in a good mood. The vice-captain was Enomoto, who was the buffest wing spiker and person of the whole team. He was good at firing people up but Futakuchi found that he shouted too much. Takahashi and Enomoto were the only two members in their fourth year. The tall, and surprisingly muscular for a middle blocker, third year with light brown hair and icy blue eyes was Onodera. Ito was a third year wing spiker with dark, dirty blonde hair that starkly contrasted Yokozawa's. The shade almost reminded Futakuchi of Koganegawa. Damn, he kinda missed that idiot.

Kunii was a very blunt person, and also the other second year setter of the team. His eyes were slim, so it seemed like he was tired often, even if he wasn't. Sasaki was a quiet second year middle blocker with long, straight black hair that flopped into his face. Futakuchi sometimes wondered how Sasaki could see while playing volleyball. Then, of course, there was Terushima, Kuroo, Oikawa, and himself. Adding up to a total of fourteen people.

It was easier once Futakuchi remembered who everyone was. He could call out and communicate much more directly. Though Saito seemed to be slightly scared of him. And apparently he rubbed Enomoto the wrong way. It kind of reminded him of his old days as a second year in high school, bothering the shit out of Kamasaki. God, he was starting to feel nostalgic. Anyways, it always proved annoying during scrimmages for Futakuchi when he didn't remember anyone's names. He was relieved that wasn't an issue anymore.

Today's scrimmage, Futakuchi was put with Yokozawa, Enomoto, Kuroo, Sasaki, Kunii, and Takahashi. On the opposite team was Oikawa, Terushima, Saito, Yamada, Kawaguchi, Ito, and Onodera. Futakuchi was pretty sure his team would win this one, since their defense was strong. They had three middle blockers, and Kuroo had made it to nationals third year, and Futakuchi himself also got to go to nationals in his third year. They were well off. But Oikawa and Terushima was not a duo he was liking. Terushima still carried on his wacky Johzenji style plays in college, causally saving balls with his feet and jumping all over the place. Oikawa's setting skills only made it harder to keep track of Terushima.

"Kuroo, nice serve!" Takahashi said.

"You better get it in bounds!" Enomoto added.

"Weren't you the one who messed up a serve, Enomoto-San?" Kuroo grinned.

"He missed one so far and you've missed two!" Oikawa declared.

"Oikawa, shut up!" Kuroo huffed.

Futakuchi faced the net, awaiting Kuroo's serve. With a rather satisfying sound of a smack, Futakuchi watched as the volleyball flew onto the other side of the court. Oikawa dived for the ball, sending it upwards. Futakuchi's eyes followed how Oikawa nimbly got back on his feet, his eyes trained on the ball.

"Saito-Chan!" Oikawa called out.

Saito quickly moved under the ball and set it. "Terushima!"

"Three person block!"

Futakuchi moved into place with Sasaki and Takahashi as Terushima approached, his signature grin glowing on his face. Futakuchi watched where Terushima's eyes were and how he approached. _'Cross shot.'_ Futakuchi thought. Terushima jumped and was met with a three person block. Futakuchi noticed how Terushima's eyes narrowed in on the cross shot to his left. Futakuchi shifted his arms and smirked when there was a familiar sting on his arms. Terushima glared at Futakuchi through the net, his eyes smoldering. Futakuchi stared right back.

Yamada received the ball perfectly, smiling loftily. Futakuchi huffed as he landed. He was sure he had scored the point.

"Got it!" Oikawa moved fluidly under the ball.

Futakuchi tore his eyes away from the sparks in Oikawa's eyes and surveyed who was approaching. Terushima had pulled back and started to approach in first tempo with Onodera, while Ito was moving in for a back attack. Saito had fallen back to support Yamada in the back row. Futakuchi watched Oikawa again, but there were no clues. Futakuchi had a suspicion, though. He was ready and jumped when the ball went to Terushima again and blocked it. The ball slammed to the ground before Saito could receive it.

"Nice kill, Futakuchi!" Kuroo shouted.

"You sure you shouldn't be a middle blocker?" Takahashi asked.

"Terushima had already spiked, so he would be least under suspicion and he was also approaching in first tempo and could surprise the blockers, was what you were thinking, right?" Futakuchi couldn't hide his amusement from Oikawa's stony stare. "I thought that too. Might want to try harder than that."

Oikawa crossed his arms and walked away, his head high. Futakuchi felt tempted to laugh as Kuroo served again. Ito received this time, but the ball was low.

"Sorry-"

"Mine!" Oikawa ran forward before jumping.

He spiked the ball right over Futakuchi's head. Before Futakuchi had realized what Oikawa planned to do, the ball was behind him and hitting the ground. Oikawa landed, his hair bouncing lightly. Futakuchi stared behind him before slowly looking back at Oikawa.

"Yo, that was totally a Terushima move!" Yamada's eyes sparkled.

Oikawa held Futakuchi's gaze and leaned in as far as the net would let him. "Might want to try harder than that, Futa-Chan."

"Piece of shit," Futakuchi grumbled and Oikawa laughed, clear and bright.

Futakuchi's stomach did a flip at the sound and he moved to his new spot in the rotation before Oikawa could notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My own fic makes me believe in Terushima supremacy. I just love how I wrote him in this??? He was originally much different when I was writing the outline. He was much softer and more OOC, in a way. It wasn't until I actually started writing the fic that I started making his character more blunt, which seems like a better match to Futakuchi's petty brat personality.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Futakuchi hates life and Terushima is the wingman we all need but don't deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of the more lighthearted ones in this fic as a whole. But I promise the other tags will start to make sense soon :3 Oikawa and Futakuchi interactions will start happening more next chapter and beyond.
> 
> (Also this took forever to write holy shit- I swear I'll update with chapter five quicker)

**120.**

The desk glowed silver, giving off the slightest fade from the gleam of its finishing. Futakuchi let out a soft sigh, filling the room. Unlike the stiff chill that the silver undertones gave, the still air was warm with spring. It kept Futakuchi's fingers and toes warm as he sat still, transfixed. Across the dorms, two stories down, a window was the golden yellow of fluorescent lighting. It was a splash of color almost appalling against the muted tones the moon brought to the silence and ungodly hour. Futakuchi yawned, tapping his finger against his computer distractedly.

Terushima's soft snoring formed an unconventional beat with Futakuchi's tapping and Futakuchi closed his eyes, taking in the tranquility. A few seconds passed as the invisible presence at the back of Futakuchi's eyes faded from the rest. The silhouette at the window was still there when Futakuchi cracked an eye open. Futakuchi sighed before fully opening his eyes to watch the person. It was probably weird. Why'd Futakuchi care if someone was up around the same time as him? Futakuchi didn't really know the answer to that question. Which was exactly why he didn't tell Terushima about it because Terushima would force him to think like the endearing idiot he is. Futakuchi casted a glance at Terushima.

Terushima was a still sleeper. As long as he was on top of the blankets in spring and summer. Terushima had long since kicked off his blanket and was now snoring away cutely, a relaxed look on his face and his tank top riding up to his waist. Futakuchi stared at Terushima for a while, wondering how such a rambunctious character could sleep like a corpse. Maybe he just ran out of all his energy. Wasting all of it buzzing around and being a blunt brat. Though Futakuchi was one himself. And Terushima being a blunt brat was the reason why Futakuchi even bothered to befriend Terushima when they first met. Futakuchi snorted at himself when he realized how thoughtful and reflective he was being. Just because of the moon and some silence. How dumb. Futakuchi wasn't the type who could think rationally. He was a fool who didn't really know how to deal with growing up and serious matters that he'd eventually have to face.

Futakuchi turned to look out the window again, back to the room on the fourth floor. The person was standing, as still as when Futakuchi last checked. Futakuchi wondered if the person's feet had started to ache from standing in the same place without moving for so long. It was like Futakuchi was staring at a statue. Such a still figure should've been boring to Futakuchi, but instead he couldn't stop looking. It was a weird connection on Futakuchi's end. He didn't know why. He probably didn't know the guy and all he did was stare at them like a creep. He wondered how the person would react if they knew some guy was staring at him while he was chilling at the window. It was weird, and Futakuchi should probably stop.

But he didn't. He sat there until the person finally moved and the window went dark.

**119.**

"Is Futa shy?" Terushima laughed before blowing a kiss at Futakuchi.

"Uh, no," Futakuchi faked a polite smile. "I'm surrounded by savages and being forced to tag along when I could be spending my time doing something better."

"I am _not_ a savage!" Yamada shouted Futakuchi grunted when Yamada's hand slammed into his back with a loud clap.

"It's a team outing, brighten up," Kuroo grinned. "No need to be a little bitch, Futakuchi."

"If anyone is a savage, it's you. You're constantly swearing and getting on people's nerves on purpose," Yokozawa added quietly.

"Exactly!" Yamada agreed with Yokozawa, _way too loudly_ , Futakuchi may add. "Tell 'im, Yokozawa!"

Futakuchi huffed, "Way to make me feel at home. Ganging up on me."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Futa!" Terushima pouted. "It's a team outing and you're not introverted! Also, we're spending time together! What else could be better!"

"Well, I don't mind you," Futakuchi shrugged. "If it was just you that invited me out to dinner to hang out, I wouldn't have minded."

"Bro, I'm touched," Terushima smiled. "You're too nice."

"No problem, dude," Futakuchi nudged Terushima playfully.

"Are you guys, like, dating?" Kunii asked, his face flat and devoid of any real interest in his own question.

"What? No!" Terushima sputtered.

"Yeah, Teru here has a cute little crush on-"

"Futakuchi motherfucking Kenji, shut up before I end you."

"All right, be quiet! We're here!" Enomata shouted over all of them.

"He's shouting louder than us," Yokozawa said and Yamada laughed, giving him a light pat on the shoulder.

"It's Enomata logic. Let him be, Yokozawa," Yamada said.

Futakuchi and his other thirteen teammates found their way into the sushi restaurant. Futakuchi allowed Terushima to poke at him and drape all over him as Takahashi dealt with getting their reserved seats. His eyes wandered away from Takahashi talking to the staff and floated aimlessly over his team. Yokozawa was getting an earful of Yamada talking but didn't seem to mind. _'What a bizarre friendship. I would've thought he's the type to avoid loudmouths.'_ Saito was shyly talking to Kawaguchi and when he noticed Futakuchi looking vaguely in their direction, he seemed to tense up. Looks like he was still scared of Futakuchi. Eventually, Futakuchi's eyes found their way to the brattiest brunette to ever exist. Or maybe that was Futakuchi himself.

Oikawa was chatting with Kuroo, who Futakuchi assumed was at least one of his best friends. Futakuchi would've expected Oikawa and Kuroo would be more like him and Oikawa. Never getting along. But apparently, Oikawa and Kuroo just ganged up on insulting others rather than insulting each other. Kuroo was letting out his signature hyena laugh when Oikawa's eyes locked with Futakuchi's. Oikawa paused, the smile on his lips still there, but as a result of seemingly not knowing what to change his expression instead of genuineness. Futakuchi found it curious, so he didn't look away. Oikawa stared back, his smile a bit more faded now. Without a teasing smirk or a challenging raise of an eyebrow, Oikawa looked away.

Futakuchi narrowed his eyes in contemplation. He usually wasn't his thing to brood over reasons behind actions, but it was Oikawa. Anything that Futakuchi could use against Oikawa, he would take. Oikawa's strange behavior during the outing counted for that. He hadn't thrown a jab at Futakuchi the whole walk to the sushi restaurant, despite having many chances to say something offensive. In fact, he hadn't even looked at Futakuchi until then. It was unusual. They were usually at each other's throats with honeyed insults and fake smiles that seemed to terrify Saito.

"What's up with the long look, Futa?" Terushima asked as he stepped away from Futakuchi.

Terushima stared at Futakuchi before following his gaze. Futakuchi didn't respond when Terushima glanced back at him questioningly. Terushima looked back at Oikawa once more, then at Futakuchi. He let out a sigh.

"Mate, are you _sure_ you're not crushing on him?" Terushima crossed his arms.

"Why do you keep asking that?!" Futakuchi sputtered, startling Saito and Kawaguchi out of their conversation. " _No_ , I am not crushing on a pompous piece of shit."

"I'm not sure if you're in the place to say that, bro," Terushima laughed.

 _'What's taking Takahashi so long to just get our seats?'_ Futakuchi glanced impatiently back at Takahashi. As if by luck, Futakuchi thought that the moment they were let into the restaurant. Terushima whooped excitedly but went quiet at a look from Takahashi. Futakuchi snickered and earned himself a hit over the head. Their waiter guided the team towards the back of the restaurant, where a table for fourteen was set up for them. Hurriedly, Futakuchi went to a corner, not wanting to deal with more than one person (Terushima) for the night. Futakuchi was the first to sit down, leaning into his chair languidly.

He heard the chair to his right get pulled out, accompanied with movement in the corner of his eye. Futakuchi looked up and stared blankly as Oikawa quietly sat down next to him. Oikawa rested an elbow on his table, propping his cheek against it. He was looking the opposite direction to Futakuchi with a stony silence. Futakuchi opened his mouth, but couldn't find the right words so he closed his mouth without a sound. He looked up at Terushima and Kuroo, who looked equally as confused at Oikawa's choice of where to sit. Terushima shrugged and instead sat in the corner across from Futakuchi. Kuroo sat down next to Terushima, staring straight at Oikawa.

Oikawa noticed Kuroo's stare and crossed his arms almost defensively before mumbling. "What?"

"May I comment on your choice of seating?" Kuroo not-so-subtly gestured at Futakuchi.

"No, you may not," Oikawa said flatly, still not acknowledging Futakuchi's presence next to him.

"Okay, then," Kuroo exchanged glances with Terushima.

Futakuchi gazed at Oikawa, trying to decipher his moody behavior. It almost reminded Futakuchi of his girlfriend in first year, with how she'd passive aggressively deal with everything. Futakuchi let out a heavy breath, his passive aggressive reading skills were dusty. Oikawa shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with Futakuchi's eyes trained on him. Futakuchi decided to let it pass and instead turned to Terushima.

"Hm, maybe I had it backwards?" Terushima looked at Oikawa and the back at Futakuchi.

"Teru, for the last time no," Futakuchi groaned.

"I'm just teasing," Terushima laughed.

Futakuchi rolled his eyes and only glared when Terushima's foot nudged his under the table playfully. The bottom of Terushima's worn down (and cringy) neon yellow sneakers. Futakuchi had no idea what exactly Terushima liked about the color yellow. Maybe he just started liking it since it was Johzenji's team color.

"Get your ugly as shit sneaker off my pants," Futakuchi reached down to smack away Terushima's foot.

"My sneakers are not ugly!" Terushima frowned.

"They're _neon yellow_ ," Futakuchi sighed. "Why don't you use your fashion sense for once to wear something that looks good?"

"Well, it's not like this is a date or anything," Terushima said. "It's just a team hang out. And I thought my best friend would love me even when I wear my cringy shoes and clothes."

"Yes, yes. But I would prefer it if you were easier on the eyes."

"I'm always easy on the eyes."

Futakuchi squinted at Terushima and intentionally dragged out the silence before answering. " _Right_."

"You brat," Terushima kicked Futakuchi's shin lightly.

"You can't hate this brat," Futakuchi fluttered his eyelashes.

"We'll see about that."

"We will indeed. You'll be draping yourself on me when we leave this restaurant."

"Nope. Not happening."

Futakuchi snorted but let that one go. Terushima would forget about it by the end of their meal. He was a touch craving creature who satiated his desires by hugging Futakuchi constantly. He wouldn't last long and it'd be one more thing Futakuchi could use against Terushima on his already endless list. Terushima gave what Futakuchi found to be a signature mix of a pout and a frown. For someone who was supposed to be a playboy, Terushima was surprisingly childish and more cute than hot.

The majority of the time was uneventful, besides one of Yamada's chopsticks somehow flying out of his hand and almost hitting Saito, who let out an almost girlish shriek before laughing and other stupid things like that. It was actually fun, though Futakuchi wouldn't admit that or he'd face Terushima's smug expression. He had kind of missed team hang outs when his role as Dateko's captain finally came to an end.

But Oikawa's strange behavior persisted. He had spent the night talking to Kuroo, Saito, and even Terushima a few times. Yet he wouldn't even glance in Futakuchi's direction. Quite literally. He obviously kept his eyes trained on things and didn't even as much as turn towards Futakuchi's direction. Futakuchi slowly sipped his lukewarm green tea as Oikawa ate his sushi. Futakuchi was long since finished from a competition with Terushima to see who had a higher spice tolerance and handling so much spice had shrunk his appetite. Oikawa knew Futakuchi was staring at him since Futakuchi didn't bother to hide it.

Futakuchi's eyes moved over the shadows on Oikawa's face and in the dip of his neck, highlighting Oikawa's light and unmarked complexion. In the end, Futakuchi returned to looking at Oikawa's eyes. Like he always does. The way they glowed and danced with specks of light seemed carefully calculated and planned out, like a choreographed dance. Intentionally enrapturing. Purposely enticing. A full sky during the day, the sun blinding all other stars. Hiding all the smaller emotions and instead keeping up a pretty facade that was warm and inviting. It made him the center of attention like the planets orbiting the sun. But it was different this time. It was nightfall in Oikawa's eyes, and all those carefully hidden stars sparkled in the depth of rich brown color. It was a foreign look, much more complex and it would take Futakuchi an eternity to pick out every glimmering star.

Oikawa was looking at the wall as meticulously as Futakuchi was observing him. His shoulders rigid, his posture unmoving, his lips pressed together with a baited breath. It was like a moment caught in time. A painting or a picture of some sort. Futakuchi propped his chin in his palm and contemplated what to say.

"So, Oikawa- _San_ -"

"You can drop the 'San,' you know," Oikawa interrupted.

Futakuchi stared, dumbfounded. Oikawa's hands tightened around his cup and his lips tightened again as quickly as a door slammed shut. Futakuchi let the silence flutter around for a few seconds. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"You want me to drop the honorifics," Futakuchi said flatly.

Futakuchi's gaze followed Oikawa's fingers as they combed through his silky brown curls. "If you're going to tack on the 'San' in such a cocky way, I'd rather not hear it. Besides, getting even feigned respect from you is kind of disgusting."

Futakuchi felt his mouth quirk upwards in a gentle curve before he struggled to neutralize the smile that was bubbling up. He wasn't supposed to be smiling. Oikawa Tooru is a bitch and Futakuchi is rubbed the wrong way by him. Maybe it was because for once, Futakuchi clearly had the upper hand.

"Maybe I will drop the honorifics, if you actually look me in the eye instead of ignoring me," Futakuchi grinned at how Oikawa's nose scrunched up in discomfort.

Oikawa lifted his cup to his lips, taking a long sip. The soft tap of Oikawa putting his cup back on the table flicked a switch. Enomoto's loud declarations, Kawaguchi's excited chatter, and Yamada's energetic shouts buzzed into the background. It was fucking stupid, like in the unrealistic romance movies where the music and background get quieter and the main character and love interest just stare at each other. Oikawa looked like he had stepped out of a movie himself with his photogenic and unflawed face, sparkly eyes, perfectly placed smile, and long eyelashes.

Futakuchi rested his crossed arms on the table, his eyes tracing out Oikawa's broad shoulders and the collarbone barely peeking out of Oikawa's shirt. Oikawa dragged his thumb around the rim of his cup, deliberately slow. He bit his bottom lip and Futakuchi watched Oikawa's teeth drag over the soft skin of his lip. Oikawa lifted his head but kept his eyes glued to his cup for a moment before looking at Futakuchi. Futakuchi watched as Oikawa's eyes trailed up bit by bit, until their eyes connected.

Oikawa shrugged. "Happy now?"

"Mm, guess so, _Oikawa_ ," Futakuchi tested out Oikawa's name without honorifics.

It felt foreign, awkward on the tip of Futakuchi's tongue. It sat there, unbalanced, taking up way too much room in his thought. Since Futakuchi had joined high school, he was made aware of who Oikawa was. One of the most talented players in Miyagi, a setter skilled enough that he could bring his team to max potential. He was someone meant to be respected, and feared by some. He was someone Futakuchi only knew by name and skill and nothing else. The distance between them made Oikawa a story and a challenge more than an actual person. Yet shortly after being thrown onto a team with Oikawa, he was saying Oikawa's name without honorifics. Futakuchi shoved the reflective thoughts away in favor of pushing Oikawa's buttons.

"Well, Oikawa, care to answer a question for me?" Futakuchi leaned closer to Oikawa.

Oikawa mirrored Futakuchi's posture, a smile flickering over his lips before he spoke in a quieter tone. "Since when were you the type to ask for permission, Futa-Chan?"

Futakuchi lowered his voice to match Oikawa. "Good point. Why did you sit next to me?"

"That was a jarring shift of topic," Oikawa commented.

"Why did you sit next to me?" He repeated.

"Why're you asking?" Oikawa's attention was transfixed only on Futakuchi. Futakuchi relished in it.

Futakuchi grinned. "I don't know, this feels like a piss poor attempt to befriend me on your end."

"And if it is?" Suddenly emboldened, Oikawa moved closer, his arm pressing against Futakuchi's and their faces closer than Futakuchi anticipated. "What would your snarky little mouth say then?"

Futakuchi swallowed, as if that could get rid of the suddenly tightness in his throat. His heart thrummed inside his chest, sending a sensation that Futakuchi hadn't felt for a year and a half through his veins. His skin tingled, buzzing under the complete attention Oikawa was giving him. The calm and repetitive ebb and flow of blood pumping through Futakuchi's veins was replaced by the crashing of uncontrolled waves, messy and powerful. It felt out of control and that caused Futakuchi's gut to clench. His small smirk lingered, keeping the sudden change off his face.

He hummed thoughtfully. "I think I'd say that I'm not won over by such a poor attempt. I'd say..."

Futakuchi leaned in, just out of range to not feel Oikawa's breath on his lips. Closer up, the stars in Oikawa's eyes seemed like supernovas, destructive and crashing together in a jumbled wreck of fascinating beauty. Futakuchi lowered his voice to a whisper that could barely be heard over the muted background noise.

"Try harder."

**118.**

Futakuchi trudged across his dorm room to Terushima's bed. Terushima looked up from his computer, his gaze questioning and a potato chip halfway in his mouth. Futakuchi shoved Terushima's computer off his lap and flopping stomach down onto the now open spot with a groan. Terushima snickered, the sound reminding Futakuchi of Pop Rocks candy being thrown onto the floor. Except more pleasant. Futakuchi lifted his head off of Terushima's mattress when he breathed in oversaturated sunshine. He felt fingers ruffle through his hair.

"What's up?" Terushima asked.

"College sucks," Futakuchi complained.

"Yes, yes, I know." Terushima patted Futakuchi's head as if soothing a moody child.

"No, you don't, you natural genius," Futakuchi hissed. "You're great at learning shit. I'm not and I'm fucking sick of studying all the time."

"Aw, you're trying," Terushima cooed.

"You've known I've been trying. How else would I have gotten into this college?" Futakuchi grumbled.

"I know." Terushima curled a lock of Futakuchi's hair around his finger.

"I'm falling behind in these stupid classes and I understand _nothing_ ," Futakuchi whined.

"You can do it, bro." Terushima started to trace random patterns between Futakuchi's shoulder blades.

"I don't want to though."

"You really are a whiny brat."

"Can you help me study?" Futakuchi grumbled.

Terushima stayed silent and Futakuchi glanced up at him. He was tapping a finger against his chin, clearly in thought. Terushima never hesitated to help Futakuchi study before, going as far as throwing a study sleepover for the weekends before some of Futakuchi's tests in high school. Terushima let out a long hum before grinning .

"You know what? I politely decline," Terushima smiled.

"What?! Why?!"

"I care for you very greatly, my dude, and I would love to help you. However, I have come to the decision to not do that."

"But why won't you help me?!"

"Ask Oikawa-San to help you."

Futakuchi sat up, glaring at Terushima. "Is _that_ what this is about?"

"Dude, you're on the verge of making a new friend. That hasn't happened in, like, six months," Terushima said.

"Six months isn't that long to go without making new friends." Futakuchi rolled his eyes.

Terushima stared at him before letting out a sigh. "Mate, you're so salty it's hard for you to find people who don't mind it."

"I know, right? It's my best quality," Futakuchi fluttered his eyelashes playfully.

"Maybe," Terushima gave Futakuchi a light shove. "But that's not the point."

"Then what's the point?" Futakuchi asked.

"Um," Terushima's nose scrunched up in thought, "shit, what was my point again?"

"Oh, my god. Teru, you're so dumb," Futakuchi teased.

"I'm not! If I'm dumb, you're a brainless asshole," Terushima huffed. "Oh! My point was that you and Oikawa-San click well together and I want you to make more friends."

Futakuchi looked Terushima up and down, his gaze scrutinizing. Terushima looked back questioningly. Futakuchi cupped Terushima's face in his hands gazing straight into his eyes. Terushima's brows furrowed as if he already knew what Futakuchi was going to say. Futakuchi squished Terushima's surprisingly soft cheeks together.

"Dude, are you high and I just haven't noticed yet?" Futakuchi finally spoke. "Me and Oikawa? Click well together? What insane drugs are you on?"

"Bro, I'm serious!" Terushima pouted, which looked a little funny with his cheeks squished together.

But it was cute more than anything else. When Futakuchi had thought Terushima would constantly be blunt and sarcastic like when he first met him, but it didn't really turn out like that. Terushima was a cuddly, nerdy, childish brat who also happened to be blunt, sarcastic, never take shit, sometimes sly playboy. The combination wasn't anywhere near Futakuchi's expectations of Terushima, but it was because of Terushima's personality that Futakuchi bothered to care about Terushima. He was like when you wake up to sunlight streaming into your window. Sometimes pleasant and mellow, nice to be around. Other times loud and in your face- _annoying_ to be specific. But always a nice shade of yellow, pretty and bright. Terushima continued to speak when he realized Futakuchi wasn't going to say anything.

"You guys are just both too big of assholes to admit that you want to be friends," Terushima deadpanned.

Futakuchi scoffed. "I don't want to be friends with him. I can't stand him."

"If you really can't stand him, you wouldn't have let him sit next to you," Terushima referred to the team outing.

"He wasn't worth my time," Futakuchi grumbled defensively.

"That would've been a viable excuse if you didn't talk to him a shit ton that night."

"We were arguing the whole time."

"You guys were _flirting_ the whole time."

"We were not flirting!" Exasperation tinged Futakuchi's voice. "He has a boyfriend, Teru!"

"Is that the only thing stopping you?"

"I. Don't. Like. Him. Like. That." Futakuchi noticed he was still cupping Terushima's face in his hands and finally let go.

Terushima studied Futakuchi's face, his eyes like stifling and intense. If he were the sun, Futakuchi would get sunburn at this rate. He was looking straight at the sun, and it was blinding to the point he wanted to look away. Terushima suddenly blinked and the intensity vanished, fleeting like the sunset.

"Okay, I believe you," Terushima smiled, leaning back.

Futakuchi felt his shoulders ease their tension and he let out a silent breath. He hadn't even noticed how his body reacted to the intense stare looking straight into his soul. Well, if Terushima believed him now, that meant he actually didn't like Oikawa in that way. Unless he was good at hiding it.

"I'm still convinced you two would be, like, best friends." Terushima pulled out a lollipop from the pocket of his red shorts.

"Scared of getting replaced?" Futakuchi grinned.

Terushima tore off the lollipop wrapper. "Nope. You can have multiple best friends. I'm willing to share."

Futakuchi let out a noisy sigh through his nose. "I'm not going to ask Oikawa for help. I'll just ask someone else."

"May I point out you dropped the honorifics?" Terushima his phone, rolling the lollipop in his mouth.

"I didn't want to. It was Oikawa's idea."

"And you _listened_ to Oikawa-San's idea."

"So what?"

Terushima gave Futakuchi a long look. "I'm not even going to grace that with a response."

"You're acting like you found out I committed murder."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you committed murder."

"Point taken," Futakuchi said. "But seriously, you're looking into this way too much."

"Mhm," Terushima hummed distractedly.

"What are you doing? Don't ignore me." Futakuchi poked the back of Terushima's phone.

"I'm about to send a text to everyone you know to not help you study. Besides Oikawa-San, of course," Terushima said, casually typing away.

"What the fuck! Don't do that!" Futakuchi moved to snatch Terushima's phone.

"Oh, no. Not this time." Terushima stuck his foot out, pushing Futakuchi away.

Futakuchi grabbed Terushima's ankle and yanked Terushima toward him. Terushima fell onto his back with a yelp. He moved his phone above his head to keep it as far away from Futakuchi as possible. Futakuchi dragged Terushima closer as Terushima continued to frantically type.

"Stop it!" Futakuchi growled.

"Nope!" Terushima stuck his tongue out. "You can't stop me!"

Futakuchi reached for Terushima's phone but Terushima kept it barely out of range. Futakuchi let go of Terushima's ankle to balance better by resting his hand on the mattress. Terushima instantly rolled off the bed, falling onto the floor with a soft 'omph' sound. He scrambled onto his feet before Futakuchi could react.

"Damn it, get back here!" Futakuchi leapt off the bed.

"Hell no!" Terushima bolted to the other side of the room. "Stay back, demon!"

Futakuchi ran after Terushima, cursing how agile and nimble Terushima was. It was like trying to catch a gust of wind and hold it in one place. Terushima occasionally slowed down to type again. Futakuchi decided to go for it and tackled Terushima to the floor. Terushima went down with an inhuman screech, almost like an alarm bursting to life. Futakuchi sat on Terushima's lower back, successfully pinning Terushima down. Terushima wiggled in an attempt to free himself.

"Get off of me!" Terushima twisted to look behind him and glared at Futakuchi, resting his weight on his forearm.

"Give me your phone," Futakuchi said.

"No!" Terushima drew his phone to his chest and lay flat on the ground.

"Give. It." Futakuchi grappled with Terushima, trying to grab Terushima's phone from under him.

"Never!" Terushima shouted.

Terushima squealed when Futakuchi started to tickle his sides. Instinctively, his hands flashed out to grab Futakuchi's wrists to stop him. Futakuchi quickly got off Terushima and rolled him over, leaving Terushima's phone exposed on the floor. Before Futakuchi could grab it and maybe throw it out the window, Terushima lunged at Futakuchi, pushing him away. They rolled around a bit before Futakuchi once again used his weight to hold Terushima down, this time with Terushima on his back.

"Why're trying so hard? At this rate I'm going to throw your phone out the window," Futakuchi threatened.

"I'm not letting you," Terushima replied.

"You don't even have your phone on you anymore-" Futakuchi noticed the phone wasn't on the floor anymore.

"We rolled right over it, dimwit," Terushima smirked. "You didn't even notice me grab it."

"Well, I'm not letting you hide it this time." Futakuchi pinned Terushima's wrists to the ground.

"But you also can't grab it while pinning down both my hands," Terushima commented.

"Dude, just give up."

"No, you get off me."

"Why are you such a pain in the ass?"

"You're the pain in the ass-"

There was a knock on the door before it swung open. Saito blinked before staring at Futakuchi and Terushima on the floor. Futakuchi stared back before it slowly dawned on him what this might look like to Saito.

"U-Um!" Saito's voice came out as a squeak. "I just wanted to tell you guys that captain said there's no practice today! He asked me to tell you because his phone broke and uh, he couldn't tell anyone about the sudden change. I was going to text but my phone died so I thought I'd stop by before I go to my dorm. Sorry!"

"Wait, this is _not_ what it looks like!" Futakuchi felt his face grow warm and he let go of Terushima. "We weren't about to..."

"Get freaky?" Terushima suggested when Futakuchi couldn't find the words.

Saito's face went red. "Oh, my god. Sorry for making assumptions!"

"It's fine," Futakuchi said. "I guess this position is kind of... weird."

"Thanks for telling us!" Terushima grinned. "And for indirectly helping me out."

"Wait-" Futakuchi's eyes snapped back to Terushima. "You _didn't_."

"Yep, it's sent," Terushima confirmed.

"I'm throwing your phone out the window," Futakuchi snatched Terushima's phone.

"Wait, no! My baby!" Terushima shrieked.

"U-Um... I'll be going now?" Saito asked more than said, watching Futakuchi struggle to walk with Terushima clinging to him.

"Oh, right. See you around," Futakuchi waved.

Saito bowed again before closing the door. Futakuchi kicked Terushima off of him before throwing Terushima's phone at him. Terushima caught it with ease and smiled at how Futakuchi couldn't bring himself to go through with his threat.

"I can't believe you did that."

"Take your time."

"Teru, I don't want to go to Oikawa for help!" Futakuchi groaned.

"Well, you'll have to," Terushima said.

"You're literally the _worst_ ," Futakuchi hissed.

"Ready to stop throwing a hissy fit now?" Terushima was typing away on his phone again.

Futakuchi grit his teeth, rage building up under his skin. It strained like fabric on the verge of tearing. His nails dug into his skin when his hands curled into fists, causing sparks of pain to set off. He was unable to explode. It was as futile as setting off fireworks in the pouring rain. If it was anyone _but_ Terushima, he would've already punched them. But it was Terushima. Of course. Having a fight with Terushima wasn't a new concept. It had happened before to the point Futakuchi had bruises for a week, but that was back when they had just become friends. Hitting Terushima now would be like swatting a butterfly, or stepping on a flower. Terushima wasn't nearly as weak or delicate, neither was their friendship, but Futakuchi wasn't in the mood to apologize in two hours.

Futakuchi let out a low growl and Terushima glanced up at him but he turned away. Terushima didn't say anything. He knew by now that apologies don't go far when Futakuchi's pissed and when he didn't even mean what he was saying. Futakuchi stormed over to the door, swinging it open. He made sure to slam the door as he stepped out.

**117.**

A whole day had passed since Terushima pulled his stunt. Everyone was laughing at him because he _had_ to ask Oikawa. Yokozawa was going to offer to help but Yamada convinced him not to because Yamada is a bitch. And Yokozawa listened because Yamada was his libero senpai or something. Even Ennoshita cracked a smile when Futakuchi complained to him, leaving Futakuchi feeling more betrayed. Everyone thought it was hilarious that Futakuchi had to put up with his frenemy. If he asked Oikawa to help him study, Oikawa would hold it above him. _'Want to be friends my ass. I don't want to befriend the literal embodiment of trash,'_ Futakuchi fumed silently. Terushima must've been high to ever think that.

Futakuchi shot another glare at Terushima, who was talking to Kuroo. He had started to bond with the bedhead hyena during the time Futakuchi was ignoring him. If staying silent but letting Terushima curl up to nap on top of him counted as ignoring Terushima. Only someone like Terushima could make Futakuchi refrain from murdering in rage. Even when it was Terushima's fault that he was about to ask Oikawa for help.

Futakuchi eyed a stray volleyball and walked over to it, picking it up. The weight was familiar and grounding. He let it rest in his hand for a few moments before turning to face Terushima again. He lifted the volleyball to eye level with one arm, measuring out the distance. Perhaps he'll hit Kuroo, but it was worth the sacrifice. Futakuchi went for a simple overhand serve, but hit as hard as he could. The volleyball flew through the air before hitting Terushima square on the back of the head. The resounding smack sound rang nicely in Futakuchi's ears and his simmering anger subsided, leaving him at peace.

"Futakuchi! Cut it out!" Takahashi called over.

Terushima whipped his head around to gawk at Futakuchi. Futakuchi raised his middle finger and Yamada burst out laughing from his spot next to Yokozawa. Kuroo let out a snort but patted Terushima on the shoulder in sympathy. Terushima blew a raspberry at Futakuchi and hid behind Kuroo in case more volleyballs got sent his way.

Futakuchi rolled his eyes before taking a deep breath. He looked across the gym to find a pair of hypnotic brown eyes already trained on him. Oikawa was leaning against the wall with Saito next to him. Futakuchi wavered for a moment before marching up to Oikawa. Oikawa broke eye contact to say something to Saito, who nodded and walked away to talk to Kawaguchi. Oikawa turned his attention back to Futakuchi when Futakuchi stopped in front of him. The amused smirk on Oikawa's face bloomed further.

"What's causing the baby to have a tantrum?" Oikawa asked sweetly.

"Normally, it'd be the fact you exist but it's actually something different this time," Futakuchi retorted.

"Oh." Oikawa ignored the jab. "Well, now I'm curious. Do speak."

Futakuchi let out a low grumble, kicking at the ground. Oikawa tilted his head, his eyes questioning. Futakuchi couldn't focus while looking back into the pools of Oikawa's eyes, sticky enough to trap a spider in it's own web. He observed the diluted splotches of gym lights on the wooden floors instead.

"It's nice that you're acting like a cute, shy kouhai for once," Oikawa snickered at the annoyed face Futakuchi gave him.

"Just know I'm doing this because I have to, since that idiot over there-" Futakuchi shot another glare at Terushima- "made sure of it."

"Okay." Oikawa surprisingly didn't comment in a way to know Futakuchi.

Futakuchi crossed his arm, about ready to lose some of his pride. His eyes caught onto Oikawa's hands. He was twining his fingers together while his hands rested on his stomach. Futakuchi's eyes drank in the graceful movements of the thin fingers before his gaze flickered back to Oikawa's face. The silence dragged out.

"Can you help me study?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone can pry always hungry, blunt, logical, knows all, has fashion sense but doesn't give a fuck what he's wearing, and in the end still nice and doing what's best for his friends Terushima Yuuji from my cold, dead hands.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Futakuchi has a study not-date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever but trust me I had an excuse- rEASON for taking forever.  
> My fluff switch magically turned on and I had a brain rot of a bunch of cute fluff one shots and I couldn't write ATW because I kept thinking about cute amusement park dates and cute AUs.
> 
> I mean no one's really reading this fic but still I'M SO SORRY. Take this 8k chapter as an apology even if this being 8k was purely a coincidence.

**117.**

"You need help studying?" Oikawa asked.

"Yeah," Futakuchi admitted begrudgingly.

"I knew your head was empty. I can't help you with that." Oikawa stretched his arms above his head, his posture loosening more when his arms dropped back to his sides.

Futakuchi rolled his eyes. "Please say no. Maybe then Teru will finally agree to help me."

"Wow, I don't like the idea of being someone's last choice," Oikawa frowned. "But you've always had horrible decision making skills."

"I'll translate that to 'I realized I care about your opinion and I don't like it,'" Futakuchi grinned, enjoying the disgruntled look that found it's way onto Oikawa's face.

"I wouldn't annoy the person who decides my fate," Oikawa huffed.

"What could you possibly do?" Futakuchi retorted.

"Well, Futa-Chan!" Oikawa stepped forward, straightening up to look Futakuchi straight in the eyes. "I accept your request for my help."

"What-" Futakuchi choked on his own words. "You're not supposed to accept!"

"You don't make my decisions for me," Oikawa patted Futakuchi on the head. "How could I say no to my brattiest kouhai?"

"You know neither of us will enjoy this, right?" Futakuchi smacked Oikawa's hand away from him.

"I will. I'd love to see you struggle."

"I'm not struggling _that_ much."

"But you're struggling."

"Minor struggles. Lesser than trying to plan out how to avoid your hideous face."

"Why are you trying to plan when your brain can barely function? There's a reason your plans never work."

"You're really this petty? Just because you don't like being called out?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Oikawa shrugged. "Your brain might finally be failing you."

Futakuchi sighed. "When are you free?"

"Hmm," Oikawa paused. "Well, I can clear up my schedule tomorrow. You have afternoon classes, right? You can come to my dorm after that."

Futakuchi paused, the slight spark of surprise tingling in his brain like a zap of static. He closed his mouth when he forgot his retort, clumsily biting his tongue in his haste to look casual. Oikawa's eyes shimmered in interest, not too far from sunlight concentrating onto the tips of small waves in a lake. Futakuchi already knew he messed up and coughed awkwardly when a smug smile grew on Oikawa's soft looking lips.

"Futa-Chan, don't tell me..." Oikawa snickered. "You're shy about coming over to my dorm?"

"No." The answer came belatedly. Futakuchi thought of something else to say. "I was just wondering why you chose your dorm of all places. If I know where your dorm is, I can easily murder you while you're asleep."

"I'd love to see you try," Oikawa smirked. "You're too much of a scaredy cat for that."

"You really want to see how wrong you are?" Futakuchi glared, hoping to at least see Oikawa falter.

Oikawa stayed indifferent. "I'm not wrong, though. You're totally the type of person who runs away from serious problems in their life."

He was right. Futakuchi couldn't handle serious problems. The amount of pressure to not fuck up was something Futakuchi would rather not deal with. But no one really knew that. Besides Terushima, he might've picked up on Futakuchi's bad habit by now. But how would Oikawa know that? It's gone undetected for so long and it irked Futakuchi that Oikawa was the first one to ever point it out to his face.

"Says who?" Futakuchi asked dryly, thrown off course by Oikawa's accurate accusation.

"Says me," Oikawa said.

"That doesn't count for much," Futakuchi muttered halfheartedly.

"Since we now both know you won't murder me, you can come over to my dorm. It's 407," Oikawa smirked and added. "Well, again, I can't do much to help you since you're too stupid to change."

"That's a lie," Futakuchi said sweetly. "You must know _something_ about helping even the dumbest of people if you got yourself into college."

Oikawa opened his mouth to retort but Futakuchi cut him off with a quick goodbye and strolled away, hiding a small smile by ducking his head. His smile widened when he heard Oikawa mutter something behind him.

**116.**

"Sooo," Terushima leaned on the volleyball cart and flashed Futakuchi a grin, "did you get your study date?"

"Come back when you've actually confessed to Ennoshita," Futakuchi picked up a stray volleyball and tossed it into the cart.

"Hey! That's a low blow!" Terushima whined.

Futakuchi had brought up Ennoshita to distract Terushima and make him shut up. Terushima could never retort to it. But Futakuchi decided to feed into the conversation.

"You've been pining for a year and done nothing. Dude, that's not like you," Futakuchi followed Terushima as they lazily collected volleyballs.

"Well, that's because Ennoshita isn't like anyone else!" Terushima grumbled. "He's _different_!"

"Alright, you big sap," Futakuchi smacked Terushima's arm lightly. "But you should just do it already."

"I know! But like, bro," Terushima sighed and slowed to a stop. Futakuchi glanced back at Terushima as he started to mumble. "He's _special_. I just feel different around him, y'know? I feel better when he's around."

Futakuchi ignored his instinctive disgust of the sappy, lovesick look filling Terushima's eyes and god, that wasn't even cheesy but it made him cringe. He did not miss the days when Terushima was sappy to him as well. Maybe romance just wasn't Futakuchi's thing.

"More the reason to ask him out then," Futakuchi stated plainly.

"What if he starts avoiding me or something?!" Terushima countered.

The pure, condensed worry in Terushima's eyes was something Futakuchi hadn't quite seen before. It made him glad he had never been attracted to someone. Well, he had come close, but that taste was enough to make Futakuchi want to avoid dealing with that again. Love was too complicated and risky. It wasn't something Futakuchi wanted to deal with. He didn't want the burden of it. Futakuchi searched for words to somehow comfort Terushima when he stared down at the floor in thought.

"I'm pretty sure he likes you, mate." Futakuchi moved to pat Terushima on the back. "I see him looking at you all sappy n' shit."

Terushima's eyes flickered up through his eyelashes to look Futakuchi in the eye. "You think I have a chance?"

"I do. So just go for it." Futakuchi attempted an encouraging smile.

Terushima dithered. "Soon, bro."

"Oh, my god-" Futakuchi groaned.

"Futakuchi! Terushima! Stop slacking off!" Enomata shouted from across the gym. "The gym won't clean itself!"

Futakuchi rolled his eyes but resumed collecting the stray volleyballs as Terushima trailed behind him, still in thought.

**115.**

Feeling jittery was never really Futakuchi's thing. Sure, he felt jittery before a match against a powerhouse school or when he first became team captain. But that was reasonable. Of course he'd feel jittery over that. And even then, he didn't feel that jittery. It was the faintest feeling. He only felt extremely jittery about a year and a half ago, for a reason he hasn't experienced since. He knew the signs. But that didn't mean he was going to accept it so easily.

Futakuchi glared at his hand when he noticed his pointer finger had treacherously begun to tap away on anything it came in contact with. His finger halted it's movement and he curled his hand into a fist. Terushima had picked up on Futakuchi's nervous habit a while ago and Futakuchi didn't want to deal with more of Terushima's bubbling laughter as he teased Futakuchi.

A peal of laughter sounded from across the dorm room and Futakuchi glanced up. Kuroo was telling a rather animated story, with sweeping hand gestures. Futakuchi couldn't understand anything since he tuned in the middle of the story. Terushima was clearly as transfixed as a puppy realizing their owner was about to play fetch with them. His eyes truly were like the sun, bright and loud. Leaving a mark if you stare directly at them too long. Except Terushima's chocolate brown eyes would most likely contain neon yellow suns. The kind of yellow that children colored the sun as in their drawings. Except even more neon, if that was possible. At least Terushima was distracted by Kuroo enough to not notice Futakuchi's nervousness.

He glanced down at the clock in the corner of his computer screen. Oikawa hadn't told him a specific time to go to his dorm so Futakuchi had decided to leave the dorm at 4:45. It gave him a little over thirty minutes for a head start on the work he had to do that night as well as time to relax. The surprise of having Kuroo over as well didn't phase Futakuchi too much. He and Kuroo got along fairly well, but he wouldn't call them friends quite yet. It was Terushima who was getting along with Kuroo really well. Terushima insisted that he and Kuroo would get along well but Futakuchi hadn't put in the time to befriend him. Even still, Futakuchi could see the similarity between Terushima and Kuroo. They both initially gave off "bad boy" vibes but in the end they were total dorks that were nowhere near that.

Futakuchi decided that being fidgety and running the risk of Terushima picking up on that wasn't worth the effort. He piled up all his notes, throwing them into his book bag, but kept his computer tucked under his arm. He went over to the door and slipped on a pair of sneakers.

"I'm going over to Oikawa's dorm," Futakuchi said. "I'll be back in maybe an hour or two."

"Have fun on your study date!" Terushima grinned and Kuroo snorted.

"It'll be a study date the day you grow the balls to confess to Ennoshita," Futakuchi deadpanned.

"Oh, snap!" Kuroo patted Terushima on the back. "Don't mind, don't mind."

Terushima pouted and Futakuchi smiled smugly. One would expect Terushima to get used to Futakuchi using that against him, but he never did. It never ceased to make Terushima unable to retort.

"Someone as lonely as Futakuchi wouldn't get it," Kuroo sighed in fake pity, leaning against Terushima. "He doesn't understand the feeling of pining for someone."

"I have very much experienced that," Futakuchi huffed.

Kuroo threw him a skeptical look. "You sure?"

"Yeah, very sure." Futakuchi rolled his eyes. "I just didn't bitch about it like either of you did."

Kuroo gasped. "Futakuchi! Such disrespect to your senpai!"

"What is there to respect anyways?" Futakuchi retorted. "Aren't you a pining idiot like Teru?"

"Ey!" Terushima threw a pillow at Futakuchi. "Who's the one who actually needs to study?"

"I am no longer pining like my dear kouhai right here," Kuroo nudged Terushima playfully. "I've had a boyfriend for a year and a half."

"Wow, someone actually dealt with you for that long?" Futakuchi asked.

"If I'm unbearable, what does that make you and your poor single soul?" Kuroo winked. "You just don't have good taste in men. I'm perfect, you're just blind to it."

"It might be your face that's blinding me to it," Futakuchi grumbled.

"Yeah. My handsome face," Kuroo smirked.

Futakuchi squinted. "Where???"

"See, I told you that you were blind," Kuroo said. He turned to Terushima before Futakuchi could respond. "But Futakuchi over there is kinda right. You should confess at least to get it over with. You've been pining long enough."

"But it's just so _hard_ ," Terushima complained. "I don't know how you did it."

"I just forced myself to tell Morisuke I needed to talk to him after practice, panicked for the whole school day, and told him because at that point I had to," Kuroo shrugged. "Not the best, but it's something."

"Alright, I'll be on my way, you total saps," Futakuchi said.

"Don't forget to lock the door!" Terushima reminded him. "It was unlocked _again_ when I came back today."

"You forget to lock the door more than I do," Futakuchi countered. "You should start to remember to do that too."

Futakuchi closed the door, double checking that he locked it, before heading off to Oikawa's dorm.

**114.**

A door was not supposed to be intimidating. It was literally a fat plank of wood to cover a hole in a wall. If Futakuchi really wanted to, he could probably kick down the wooden door in front of him (and hopefully not stub his toe like the last time he kicked a door). Maybe he _should_ kick down the door- _'No, Kenji. The door is innocent. It's not alive, so it's not the door's fault I have a study session with Oikawa motherfucking Tooru.'_ Maybe serving a volleyball into Terushima's head wasn't enough to satiate his annoyance. _'I'll just eat all of Teru's snacks when I get back to the dorm.'_

Nodding to himself, Futakuchi shifted the weight of his book bag slung over his shoulder and knocked on Oikawa's door. The sound of his knocks were as loud to Futakuchi as opening a bag of chips he stole from Terushima at 1 AM (Terushima had god tier senses for when his food was about to be eaten). The silence of the rather empty hallway felt deafening as the sound of his knocks faded away into the buzzing quiet. The sound of tapping suddenly filled Futakuchi's ears. He noticed his finger was tapping on his computer. Futakuchi switched the computer to his other hand before giving his traitorous pointer finger a look of absolute offense.

Oikawa swung the door open when Futakuchi did just that. Futakuchi glanced up quickly, letting his hand drop back down. Oikawa raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on Futakuchi glaring at his own hand like it just betrayed him (which it did. It totally did). Instead, he stepped back to let Futakuchi into his dorm. Futakuchi stepped into Oikawa's dorm, taking off his shoes while observing Oikawa's room.

There seemed to be a teal or turquoise color scheme in the room with a base of white. Futakuchi didn't care enough about colors to try to figure out if it was teal or turquoise but Futakuchi could tell it was Aoba Johsai's team color. On the wall adjacent to the wall with a window was a bunch of hanging picture frames. Under that was a snowy white desk with seemingly organized notes and a teal/turquoise desk organizer. Oikawa's bed was pushed against the wall opposite the desk, the blanket smoothed over and the bed well made. In the center of the room was a low, light brown wooden table with a cup of water and papers that looked like organized notes. The room felt bigger than Futakuchi's own dorm.

"You're late," Oikawa commented, the door clicking shut.

Futakuchi suppressed an exasperated sigh. "I don't remember getting an exact time to come over."

"Well, I cleared out my schedule for you," Oikawa huffed in a "be grateful" tone. "I have more important people to spend time with."

"Who'd want to spend time with you?" Futakuchi neatly placed his shoes by the door.

"Someone who isn't dumb and can understand what I'm saying. Y'know, _not you_." Oikawa brushed past Futakuchi.

Futakuchi snorted but didn't keep arguing. Oikawa was sadly his tutor and it wasn't worth it to go all the way to Oikawa's dorm just to not get any help. Futakuchi glanced around again and noticed why Oikawa's room felt bigger. There was only one bed.

"You don't have a roommate?" Futakuchi asked.

"Nope. No one else wanted to dorm and I got lucky," Oikawa said. "I asked for the other bed to be taken out because it wouldn't be used."

"Well, I guess that's good. No one has to put up with you all the time," Futakuchi commented. It took him a second to realize he had just told himself not to annoy Oikawa too much.

"Definitely. Wouldn't want someone's self esteem to go down because they're constantly having to compare themselves to me," Oikawa shot Futakuchi a wink.

Futakuchi quickly looked away and muttered. "Wouldn't their self esteem go up?"

"Maybe this is why you're struggling in class," Oikawa sighed and sat on the floor by the table. "You can't even understand the simplest things."

"I'm not struggling," Futakuchi grumbled. "Not that much."

Oikawa chuckled. "Are you going to stand by the door all day?"

 _'Oh.'_ Futakuchi felt a tick of annoyance at the realization he had been standing at the door like an idiot. He shuffled over to the table in the center of the room and Oikawa smiled smugly, his eyes sparking with amusement.

"Why do you have a table if you already have a desk?" Futakuchi plopped down on the side of the table to Oikawa's right.

"Because I can't share a desk with you and I don't like doing work on my bed. I had to take out this table so we had a place to sit." Oikawa rolled his eyes. "The things I do for you."

"Never asked you to do them," Futakuchi replied sweetly. "That's all you."

"Jeez, you're not even thankful," Oikawa huffed. "I shouldn't have even tried."

"It's part of my charm," Futakuchi smiled. "Why're you talking in that "be grateful" tone anyways? Weren't you the one who said you wanted to befriend me?"

"You're the one who said I wanted to befriend you," Oikawa scoffed.

"And you indirectly told me I was right," Futakuchi countered.

"You have no proof," Oikawa sniffed, crossing his arms.

"You actually decided I was bearable enough that you would tutor me, you got petty when I pointed out you care about my opinion, you sat next to me during the team outing, and you're okay with me not using honorifics," Futakuchi listed off.

Oikawa looked away. "Shut up."

Futakuchi changed the topic. "My ass is going to go numb if I sit like this for more than thirty minutes."

"You're way too whiny," Oikawa didn't comment on the change of topic. "You do know you're in _my_ dorm, right?"

"Exactly. I'm the guest so make me comfortable," Futakuchi answered.

"You have no shame," Oikawa stood up.

"Says the one always bragging about how good he looks," Futakuchi retorted.

"Is that you admitting I do look good?" Oikawa strolled over to his closet, swinging the door open.

"I never said it was true," Futakuchi's eyes drifted over Oikawa's body.

"You never said it wasn't true," Oikawa glanced at Futakuchi and Futakuchi averted his eyes, pretending to observe the pictures on Oikawa's wall.

"Alright then. Just looking at your face makes me cringe," Futakuchi said flatly.

Oikawa didn't respond, grabbing a cushion from the closet and closing the closet door. He walked up to Futakuchi and crouched down so that they were eye to eye. Futakuchi leaned away slightly but met Oikawa's eyes. Oikawa stared back, but his eyes weren't intense. Simply... searching. Analytical. Oikawa leaned a bit closer and Futakuchi's breath caught in his throat, making him involuntarily hold his breath. Oikawa's eyes were clear, like the endless blue sky during the day. The small stars Futakuchi had seen during the team outing were gone, masked by the sun in Oikawa's eyes again. Unlike Terushima's neon yellow crayon colored suns, Oikawa's was more like the actual sun. A blinding mass of multiple colors, all somewhat coexisting until their inevitable supernova. Oikawa blinked and for just a moment, Futakuchi could grasp the small twinkle of stars hiding behind the blinding day.

Oikawa stood up and smiled. "I didn't see you cringe."

 _'Oh. Is that what this is about?'_ Futakuchi exhaled shakily before answering. "Oh, my bad. My eyes must've adapted to tolerate your face for the sake of survival."

"Is that so?" Oikawa handed Futakuchi the cushion. "Anyways, here. For your poor sensitive ass."

"Thanks," Futakuchi took the cushion and sat on it. "Say, Oikawa, don't you need something to sit on too? My ass has more cushioning than your flat ass."

"My, my, where have you been looking while I wasn't paying attention, Futa-Chan?" Oikawa gasped. A venomous smile quickly replaced Oikawa's expression. "But I'm quite fine, thank you."

"You sure?" Futakuchi asked, grinning at his discovery of a new way to annoy Oikawa. "You have absolutely no cushioning with-"

"Futa-Chan, don't make me upset," Oikawa warned. "Can we stop talking about my ass now? This can get into pretty gay territory pretty quickly."

"But we're both at least partially gay," Futakuchi said.

"Really now?" Oikawa sat back down at his spot.

"Well, yeah," Futakuchi unzipped his book bag and pulled out his notes. "You have a boyfriend and I'm bi."

"Ah, so I was right. You _are_ bi," Oikawa grinned triumphantly. "You may not scream bisexuality like Terushima does but I could tell."

"No one screams bisexuality like Teru does," Futakuchi sighed. "Actually, no one screams like Teru does, period. He shouts too much."

"I noticed," Oikawa agreed. "But that's enough small talk. Care to explain your struggles? What's hurting your poor nonexistent brain?"

"My struggles are _minor._ "

"Yes, yes. Explain to me your _minor_ struggles."

**113.**

A ringtone interrupted Oikawa's words and Oikawa pulled his phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the contact name and suddenly his eyes turned to night. In a flash of brilliant lights, the speckles of stars in his eyes started to dance to a symphony of emotions Futakuchi hadn't seen in Oikawa's eyes yet. The instant smile on his lips was soft, like the first blooming flower after a long winter.

"It's my boyfriend," Oikawa said. "Are you okay with me stepping out to pick up?"

"Yeah, sure." Futakuchi waved Oikawa off. "A small break from you would be nice."

Instead of a retort, Oikawa flashed a smile at Futakuchi and ruffled his hair before briskly heading out. Futakuchi's nose scrunched up in distaste and smoothed out his hair. He glanced back at the door. _'He got excited so quickly,'_ Futakuchi rested his chin on the palm of his hand. _'I guess that makes sense. It is his boyfriend after all.'_ Futakuchi frowned, running his fingers through his hair. It was the first time Oikawa had acted completely friendly to him and his jab was completely useless against the excitement Oikawa must've felt the moment his boyfriend called. _'Love is weird,'_ Futakuchi concluded.

After organizing and reorganizing his notes, balancing a pencil on his finger, and wondering when was the best time to eat Terushima's snacks, boredom won over. Futakuchi stood up and wandered over to the pictures above Oikawa's desk. Two of the images were of Oikawa and Kuroo, one of which had Kuroo doing a face Futakuchi had to take a picture of for blackmail and leverage. The other images were of Oikawa with other people from Seijoh. One was a whole team photo, another was of Oikawa with three others, all the same grade if Futakuchi recalled correctly. They were the third year starters when Dateko went against Seijoh in Futakuchi's second year.

Futakuchi's eyes landed on an image of Oikawa with just one other person. It was Seijoh's ace from when Oikawa was a third year. Oikawa had always called him "Iwa-Chan" but when Futakuchi dug through his hazy memory, the name Iwaizumi resurfaced. Futakuchi noticed that Oikawa and Iwaizumi were holding hands in the photo and the way they looked at each other reminded him of Terushima when he talked about Ennoshita. _'Ah. So that's who Oikawa's boyfriend is,_ _'_ Futakuchi stared at the photo. _'It makes sense.'_ Futakuchi zoned in on the bright smile on Oikawa's face as he looked at Iwaizumi. _'It was painfully obvious how close those two were.'_ Oikawa's smile was bigger and more carefree than Futakuchi could've imagined he was capable of. _'I wonder if they were dating already when Dateko had a match against them.'_ His eyes held the dancing nighttime that Futakuchi had just seen for the first time. _'They're childhood friends, right? Sheesh, what a classic trope.'_ A flickering thought on whether Iwaizumi always got to see Oikawa's eyes like that passed by.

Futakuchi lazily looked around Oikawa's desk, briefly considering mixing everything up just to annoy Oikawa. Deciding against it, Futakuchi drifted away from the desk, his interest in that area of the room turning into the remnant of a faded ghost. The feeling of the smooth laminated wooden floor under his socks anchored him to prevent him from spacing out too much. His eyes moved to the bright spring sunlight streaming into the room through the door. Small speckles of dust were washed over with an unfiltered color of white, swirling in the wind that Futakuchi couldn't feel in the still air. It was weird, how dust would move around even when there was nothing to push it.

Dithering for a moment, Futakuchi wandered over to the door. It was closed, like a mouth pressed into a thin line to hide a secret. Futakuchi inched a little closer, and Oikawa's voice reached his ears. It sounded different. It _was_ different. If how Oikawa talked to him was like still water, controlled and giving away nothing, his voice was crashing waves through the door. Rising and falling in the way a voice did when someone felt at home, when someone felt happy. Uncontrolled and free to splash around, filling the air with a refreshing spray. Even with the missing pieces of Oikawa's words, it still sounded complete.

"... tell them... Yeah, well who cares..." Futakuchi didn't bother to strain to hear every word Oikawa was saying. "I'm... No, not Kuroo, a kouhai..."

Futakuchi felt a prick of curiosity and stepped closer to the door, until Oikawa's voice became clear.

"He's a Dateko graduate actually! Do you remember the bratty captain we went against in our last tournament?" Oikawa paused to let Iwaizumi answer. "Yeah, him. His name's Futakuchi, in case you forgot." Another pause. "Well, duh, he's still a brat! A really rude one too. He's annoying and gives me no respect." Futakuchi could hear the pout in Oikawa's voice. "Hajime! That's mean!" _'Oh, first name basis. Not that surprising.'_ "I agreed to tutor him to annoy him. His best friend forced him to ask." Futakuchi rolled his eyes at the reminder of Terushima's scheme. "It's actually not that hard. He's pretty attentive, all I had to do was figure out how he best understands information... He's surprisingly studious so I guess he does have redeeming qualities." Oikawa fell silent but it almost seemed like he was thinking rather than listening to Iwaizumi, but Futakuchi wouldn't know. "He's... not that bad. _God_ , did I actually say that out loud? I mean, instead of blandly complaining about my personality, he snidely complains about my personality. He's pretty okay to be around at times, and he can be pretty funny. It kinda feels like our rude comments are becoming more teasing, just a little bit. He's such a total brat but I think that's what I like about him."

Futakuchi felt his stomach flip and he backed away from the door like it had blurted out that secret it was hiding and hit him square in the chest. He felt his finger tapping away restlessly at his thigh, his stomach tightening the tangle that was in it to resemble a shoelace tied too tightly that would take forever to unknot. His heart was thudding against his rib cage as if it would swing open and let his soar when in actuality it would only fall on the floor in an ugly heap. _'Fuck.'_ Futakuchi bit his lip, pain tingling across his skin. Suddenly one year and a half ago seemed like yesterday as he relived sensations he hadn't felt in a long time. He was definitely eating all of Terushima's snacks when he got the chance.

He rushed over to the window and flung it open as far as it could go before sticking his head out to get a breath of full air. He closed his eyes, his head reeling with thoughts that suffocated him in a way a stuffy room couldn't quite reach. The longing in Terushima's eyes when he looked at Ennoshita, the shy and almost insecure smiles on Ennoshita's face when he looked at Terushima. _'I don't want that.'_ The way Oikawa's eyes instantly turned to night at the sight of Iwaizumi calling him. _'I don't want that.'_ The way Kuroo went soft when talking about his boyfriend, all the sass fading away. _'I don't want that.'_ Futakuchi dropped his head into his hands. _' **I don't want that.'**_

Who would? Who would want that? It didn't matter if Kuroo and Oikawa had their happy ending, or if Terushima would get his happy ending if he just confessed. It was pure luck to get a happy ending. Love was full of pained longing, and jumbled up emotions, and stomachs flipping to the point of feeling like throwing up, and hearts beating so hard it _hurt_. What was so cute about that? What was so nice about that? What was there to want from that? Futakuchi didn't want to feel like that. That wasn't him. He was supposed to be somewhat chill, pretty much going with the flow, and not soft like that. Soft wasn't bad, but it wasn't part of Futakuchi's personality. Love changes someone. Futakuchi didn't want to change. He was happy with how he was, bratty and all.

The panic, the irritation, the rage with no target crashed as quickly as it had exploded up. Futakuchi slumped over, letting his arms drop away from his face and dangle off the ledge of the window, his elbows on the windowsill supporting his weight. He gazed blankly at his own feet. The warm sunlight caressed his hair, as if trying to get him to look up, but he wasn't in the mood for the spring colors. _'I hate this,'_ Futakuchi sighed, but it only accentuated how his heart was still thrumming against his rib cage. He longed to blame it on his sudden panic, but his sudden panic was to be blamed on what had caused his heart to speed up: Oikawa.

More specifically, Oikawa admitting to liking him, platonically of course. It wasn't anything new. Oikawa had pretty much admitted to it already. But the happy flutter in just hearing it felt sickening. In fact, everything felt sickening the moment Futakuchi wasn't around Oikawa. Suddenly the smile he had been trying to hide felt filthy, the buzz in his heart collapsed into slush. And it kept feeling sickening until he saw Oikawa again. Then it felt like his heart would flourish like a flower unfurling, and the flipping in his stomach felt more like being on a roller coaster than the need to vomit, and the smile felt like one that belonged to a carefree child. _'Is this what pining feels like? I forgot about this,'_ Futakuchi thought distantly, looking up from the floor. _'How does Teru do it?'_

Futakuchi straightened up ever so slightly, crossing his arms and leaning on the windowsill. He stared down at the courtyard and the flowers within the bustling spring green. The colors felt like night toned neon, nowhere near the bright shades of neon but still hurting Futakuchi's eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the quick shift from brown to spring nature. The unfiltered bright afternoon sun didn't help. Futakuchi exhaled, his mind clearing ever so slightly.

Pining. He was pining. For Oikawa Tooru. _'Kinda pathetic,'_ Futakuchi chuckled to himself. He liked Oikawa? Because what? Because he was pretty? _'No. I'm not that shallow.'_ Futakuchi's pointer finger tapped away on his bicep. Because... he was interesting? He was intriguing? He was hard to read, hard to understand? _'Maybe. I was drawn to Teru because of how unpredictable he was anyways.'_ Because he was fun to be around? That was (sadly) true. Futakuchi spent half his time with Oikawa being ticked off, a fourth of the time hiding a smile, and a fourth of the time just staring at Oikawa like an idiot. _'Ah. That's why I was always staring at him. Why am I even so surprised? I knew that deep down.'_

He glanced at the photograph of Iwaizumi and Oikawa holding hands. He could make out the image from where he was but how Oikawa looked in that image was already ingrained in his mind as unpleasantly as a catchy song everyone hated. Everything else about the image was a hazy mist. Futakuchi looked away and back out the window. _'This is fucking stupid.'_ Futakuchi shook his head. _'Pining for a taken man. Good job Kenji, you really fucked yourself over this time.'_ Not only taken, it felt almost _extra_ taken (that still counts as taken but Futakuchi decided to ignore that). Oikawa was dating a childhood best friend. Someone who knew him like no one else did and was there through the good and the bad. Futakuchi couldn't do much to compete against that, but even if he could, he wouldn't. He didn't want to pine after someone, no matter who it was. The fact that he was pining for a piece of shit who was extra taken and annoying as all hell made it even worse.

Futakuchi didn't think too much more after that, brewing in his own emotions even if they should be easy to understand. He had the tiniest crush on Oikawa, he didn't want to have the tiniest crush on Oikawa, Oikawa was taken, and he had gotten his first taste of pining in a while. There was nothing complex about that, but it _felt_ complex. Similar to how repeating a word over and over can make it sound weird and complicated. Having even the smallest emotions could overthrow logical thinking and make things more complex than it should be. Futakuchi let out yet another sigh, his thoughts naturally drifting back to Oikawa.

"Futa-Chan?"

It took Futakuchi a second to process Oikawa's soft voice, but he didn't respond. He felt frozen, leaning against the windowsill and looking down at the courtyard. The sound of footsteps moving closer filled Futakuchi's ears, coming to a stop right next to him. Futakuchi didn't look up. There wasn't really a point when he could conjure up Oikawa's face perfectly from his memories. The silence was comfortable, despite the fact Futakuchi could feel Oikawa's eyes on him. He instead paid attention to the breeze that started to stir, providing the faintest coolness against his face.

"You look like you're thinking about someone," Oikawa remarked. "A _special_ someone."

Futakuchi ignored Oikawa, the words barely buzzing in his mind. He felt a finger poke his cheek and he spared Oikawa a glance. He still seemed in a good mood from calling Iwaizumi, his eyes like daybreak, stars lingering but gradually fading away.

"Seriously, you're almost freaking me out. I have literally never seen you so calm, so... serene." Oikawa poked Futakuchi's cheek again. "Who are you thinking about, lover boy?"

Futakuchi rolled his eyes at the dumb nickname, swatting Oikawa's hand away. "No one, idiot."

He stepped away from the window, brushing past Oikawa and sitting back down at the table. Oikawa paused, scrutinizing Futakuchi for a moment longer, before following Futakuchi and grabbing Futakuchi's notes to look over them.

**112.**

Futakuchi's eyes burned after staring at his computer for hours with only the lighting of the cloudy nighttime sky. Deciding to call it a night, Futakuchi closed his computer and moved to shove it under his bed, like he did when he was too lazy to plug it in at his desk. Futakuchi paused, looking at the window. _'Maybe he's there again?'_

Futakuchi dragged himself out of bed, slowly like magnets just in range to start reaching for each other. He made sure not to make too much noise for the sake of Terushima's poor sensitive hearing. He shuffled over to his desk, placing his computer down and plugging it in. Futakuchi's eye twitched and he rubbed his eyes, suppressing the desire to close his eyes. He peered out the window, his eyes instantly moving right to what he was searching for. The fluorescent light stood out even more without the downpour of moonlight to battle against it as strongly as usual. The bright fluorescent light bloomed in the diluted moonlight filtering through the clouds, outlining the silhouette much better into a refined shape. Futakuchi was still too far away to make out any clear details but when he squinted he could see the silhouette putting on a pair of headphones.

He hadn't seen the person in a few days, but Futakuchi could assume that was going to be normal based on the three times he had spotted whoever the silhouette was. This time he noticed the person was sitting down on the windowsill, their body facing into the room but their head turned to gaze outside. Futakuchi pulled out his chair, sitting down and resting his chin on his palm. From there, he watched the person sit at the window, wondering what was going through their head.

**111.**

"You ate my snacks!" Terushima shrieked, throwing his pillow at Futakuchi. _Again_.

"Terushima, uh, I know you love your snacks but aren't you overreacting?" Kuroo butted in awkwardly as Futakuchi picked up Terushima's pillow with a sigh.

"I am not!" Terushima pointed his finger at Futakuchi. "That, right there, _it_ is the only thing that can live without a heart!"

"At least I didn't go through with my plan to get rid of your gum too," Futakuchi offered.

"You thought about taking my _gum_?!" Terushima went to throw something at Futakuchi when he realized there was nothing left. "Give me my pillow back! I'm going to hit you in your fucking face!"

"I didn't expect to be thrown into world war three when I walked into your dorm." Kuroo laid down on his side, watching Terushima search for something to throw at Futakuchi.

"It's not my fault that thing over there always takes me for granted!" Terushima found a marker and uncapped it, chucking it at Futakuchi.

"You piece of shit! This is my newest shirt!" Futakuchi hissed.

"Gee, I feel so sorry," Terushima said flatly, uncapping another marker.

"Dude! Cut it out! I ate your snacks, so what?!" Futakuchi dodged the red marker.

"So what?! _So what_?! You ate them while I was in class so I couldn't do anything about it even if I could sense it!" Terushima shouted.

"You can sense your food being eaten?" Kuroo handed Terushima another marker.

"Hey! Why're you helping him?!" Futakuchi smacked away the green marker before it could hit him.

"Do you have a justified reason to eat his snacks?" Kuroo asked.

"Jeez, playing the diplomat now?" Futakuchi cursed when Terushima managed to get a long streak of purple on his blanket. "I was still pissed about him making me ask Oikawa to study so I ate his snacks!"

"That's what this is about?! _One study session_?!" Terushima flared up. "You sacrificed my snacks for _that_?! You piece of shit! First off, that study session _went well_! You came back having actually learned something! _And_ you have another one scheduled like what, two days from now?! If you hadn't gone because of my plan, that wouldn't have happened! You two even exchanged phone numbers! Also, you already hit me on the back of the head with a volleyball as revenge! What more do you need?!"

"I was still irritated! And you went through with your plan knowing fully well how pissed I would be about it!" Futakuchi countered. "I was in a blind rage for an hour! And stop painting yourself as a nice angel!"

"I literally found you asleep at your desk this morning and _put your blanket over your shoulders and left you a small breakfast_ ," Terushima threw his hands up in exasperation. "Kuroo-San! Another marker please!"

"Shouldn't you two just apologize?" Kuroo glanced between the two.

"Why should I apologize to him?!" Terushima spat. "He's a little brat!"

"Alright, alright," Kuroo stood up dramatically and clapped his hands together. "Listen to your best senpai ever-"

"Moniwa-San, is that you?" Futakuchi interrupted.

Kuroo glared at Futakuchi. " _Listen to your best senpai ever_. Hug it out."

"Ew!" Terushima curled into the corner of his bed, eyeing Futakuchi.

"Teru..." Futakuchi crossed his arms. "You hug me every day, you dolt."

"C'mon, Terushima. Hug it out with dearest Futakuchi here." Kuroo gave Futakuchi a strong smack on the back.

Terushima slowly slid off his bed, like a wary cat. Kuroo nudged Futakuchi and Futakuchi sighed but opened his arms for a hug. Terushima shuffled closer and allowed Futakuchi to hug him. The silence crashed in like a bulldozer, glaringly awkward. Kuroo slowly crept up behind Terushima and poked him. Terushima let out a startled squeak and instinctively wrapped his arm around Futakuchi.

"There we go. Two bros hugging out their issues," Kuroo grinned.

Futakuchi took in a deep breath to try to calm his irritation. He sniffed the air. Terushima didn't move when Futakuchi sniffed his shoulder.

"You smell a lot like mint today," Futakuchi concluded. "That's kinda rare."

"Is it?" Terushima started lazily drawing circles on Futakuchi back with his finger.

"Yeah. Most of the time you smell more like honey than mint," Futakuchi sniffed Terushima again. "In fact, you barely smell like honey today. That's even rarer."

"Well, thanks for the information," Terushima paused but then added. "You still smell as nice as you are a bitch."

"Good to know," Futakuchi hummed.

"Wait-" Kuroo circled the hugging duo and squinted his eyes. "Did this actually work? Did you both just hug the anger out of your systems?"

"Well, I think we talked it out," Futakuchi shrugged.

"Holy shit, this is the fastest and most successful hugging it out I've ever seen," Kuroo declared. "You're both weird."

Terushima gave Kuroo a long stare. "You're really in the place to say that?"

"Terushima!" Kuroo gasped. "What is this betrayal?!"

"Didn't know the standards were so low," Futakuchi smirked.

"Futakuchi! Not you too! I literally helped you guys make up and this is my repayment?!" Kuroo shook his head. "The quality of kouhais is getting worse and worse these days..."

"We aren't a damn product," Terushima rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me, I'm the best they come," Futakuchi bragged.

"Alright, you kouhais. Your best senpai ever asks you to clean up the mess you made. All of Terushima's stuff goes back where it belongs. Markers must be capped and put away."

Terushima and Futakuchi groaned. Terushima peeled away from the hug, moving around in search for the uncapped pens he threw. Futakuchi reluctantly collected Terushima's pillows and placed them in their rightful spots on the bed. Kuroo sat down on Futakuchi's bed and watched them work.

"Futa," Terushima stuck his hand out.

Futakuchi's eyes instantly scanned the floor around him and he spotted a marker cap by his feet. He grabbed it and tossed it in Terushima's general direction.

"Thanks," Terushima said, capping another marker. He threw it back at Futakuchi. "Desk."

Futakuchi reached over and opened Terushima's second drawer, placing the marker back in. He glanced around at the significantly less amount of things on the floor. His eyes landed on a worn down neon yellow sneaker. He picked up the shoe and shifted through his memory.

"Teru, did you throw a shoe at me?" Futakuchi asked.

"No, don't think so. Why?" Terushima spotted something under Futakuchi's bed and reached for it.

"Well, one of your cringy ass neon yellow sneakers is just lying far away from the door-" Futakuchi cut himself off. "Wait, you keep these shoes under your bed for some dumb reason."

"They're my comfort sneakers," Terushima sat back up with a red marker cap in hand. "I like to keep them near me."

"I know that," Futakuchi rolled his eyes. "That's why I think it's dumb."

Futakuchi ignored the glare sent in his direction and placed the shoe next to it's pair under Terushima's bed.

"Y'know," Kuroo broke in, "I know you two aren't dating but... are you guys exes who ended on really good terms or something?"

"I have never ended a relationship on good terms," Terushima said, throwing another marker in Futakuchi's direction without warning.

Futakuchi caught it with relative ease and put it in Terushima's drawer. "Why're you asking?"

"You two are freaky synchronized when you clean," Kuroo said. "You throw things at each other without warning and still manage to catch it, know each other's organizing habits, and all Terushima has to do is say "Futa" and stick his hand out and Futakuchi naturally knows to check the floor? Even if you've been dorming together, you shouldn't be this in sync. Did you guys live together once?"

"No," Terushima caught a shirt Futakuchi threw at him and moved over to the closet. "We've cleaned our messes after sleepovers a lot though."

"I guess that makes sense," Kuroo conceded. "So you guys never dated or anything like that?"

"Nope," Futakuchi noticed he had switched two of Terushima's pillows and fixed it. "I guess we just know each other really well?"

"Futakuchi, you literally know how Terushima organizes his pillows," Kuroo pointed out.

"Well, yeah. He's really picky about it," Futakuchi double checked he got everything right before stepping away.

"I give up. Be best friends that look like they've been dating for years to all your heart's content," Kuroo sighed.

Terushima exchanged a glance with Futakuchi before answering. "Um... thanks?"

The rest of the cleaning went uneventful besides Futakuchi's occasional thought on if it was really that weird that he and Terushima could clean so in sync. When they were done, Kuroo rejoined Terushima on Terushima's bed and they started talking about Terushima's crush on Ennoshita. Futakuchi instantly tuned it out. He had heard it all before that he could probably guess Terushima's next word for the whole talk. 

Futakuchi was settling into his bed, making a mental reminder (that he'll probably forget) to wash his blanket to get rid of the streak of purple, when his phone buzzed. Futakuchi pulled his phone out of his pocket, a small prick of curiosity like the rare chance of seeing a spark of electricity in an outlet guiding his actions. He didn't get text messages often (Terushima insisted it was a bad thing but he would never want his phone buzzing from constant text messages like a damn vibrator like Terushima's phone did) and most of his texts were from Terushima. Futakuchi checked the phone and sat up in surprise when he saw who texted him. He stared at the text until his lockscreen faded out into blackness again. After a moment of contemplation, Futakuchi sat with his back to the wall and turned his phone back on, unlocking it.

 **[11:38] Oikawa:** Futa-Chan! Guess what?

 **[11:38] Futakuchi:** I thought we exchanged numbers to schedule study sessions, not chat idly

 **[11:38] Oikawa:** It's also to grace you with my glorious presence

 **[11:39] Futakuchi:** I am once again translating  
**[11:39] Futakuchi:** This time you're saying "I wanted to talk to you but I decided to be a bitch about it to hide that fact"  
**[11:39] Futakuchi:** And to that I tell you once more  
**[11:39] Futakuchi:** Your attempts to befriend me are piss poor

 **[11:40] Oikawa:** I did not text you to watch you have an imaginary and delusional conversation with yourself

 **[11:40] Futakuchi:** Oh, my absolutely sincere and genuine apologizes. What is it?

 **[11:40] Oikawa:** It amazes me how quickly you can kill my mood to do something  
**[11:40] Oikawa:** guess what

 **[11:40] Futakuchi:** what

Oikawa didn't respond after twenty seconds so Futakuchi put his phone aside. He was tempted to pick it up again, but for what? That wouldn't make Oikawa reply any faster.

 **[11:41] Oikawa:** _Attachment: 1 Image_

Futakuchi narrowed his eyes, suspicion leaping in before anything else. What could Oikawa send him? Futakuchi dithered for a moment. _'Well. It's not like an image is gonna stab me,'_ Futakuchi concluded and opened the message.

 **[11:41] Futakuchi:** Oikawa Tooru.  
**[11:41] Futakuchi:** I told you to delete that image. I shouldn't be surprised you can't understand such simple words but I am.

 **[11:42] Oikawa:** What's wrong? Well, I mean, we both know your face is... hard to look at, to say the least, but besides that all I see is an image of my ever so dear kouhai :)

 **[11:42] Futakuchi:** You took me by surprise with that image but since you're always lying to me I'll assume that this means I'm fucking gorgeous

 **[11:42] Oikawa:** When have I ever lied?

 **[11:43] Futakuchi:** Every time you say you don't want to befriend me

 **[11:43] Oikawa:** Come back when YOU don't want to befriend ME  
**[11:44] Oikawa:** You think I haven't noticed all those times you approached me just to taunt me even though you supposedly can't stand the thought of looking at me? If you really hated me you would avoid me instead of purposefully striking up conversations with me

Futakuchi slumped against the wall, hating the sickening stir of embarrassment in his gut. He should've known he wasn't being subtle.

 **[11:45] Futakuchi:** Can you just delete the image?

 **[11:45] Oikawa:** And I should obey a kouhai because???

 **[11:45] Futakuchi:** If you keep this up I'm going to make Kuroo-San my favorite senpai to spite you

 **[11:46] Oikawa:** Oh no you would never and I care sooooooo much

Futakuchi exited the messages app and started recording a video, the camera facing Kuroo and Terushima.

"Kuroo-San?" Futakuchi interrupted Terushima's bemoaning of his feelings for Ennoshita.

"Yes, my dearest Futakuchi-Kun?" Kuroo patted Terushima's head when he pouted at the attention moving off of him.

"Can I officially make you my favorite senpai?" Futakuchi asked.

Kuroo made eye contact with the camera. "Is this to spite Oikawa?"

"Yes..." Futakuchi admitted begrudgingly.

"Well then," Kuroo clapped his hands together, "it's a fuckin' honor, of course I'll be your favorite senpai."

"You're the best, Kuroo-Senpai," Futakuchi said, ending the video.

"Why thank you, Futakuchi. You're also the best," Kuroo smiled.

"I know," Futakuchi bragged and Kuroo snorted.

 **[11:48] Futakuchi:** _Attachment: 1 Video_

 **[11:49] Oikawa:** Futa-Chan what the f u c k

 **[11:49] Futakuchi:** Oh my I thought you didn't care

 **[11:49] Oikawa:** More importantly why would Kuroo ever want to be YOUR favorite senpai?

 **[11:49] Futakuchi:** Sounds like someone's jealous

 **[11:50] Oikawa:** I am never deleting that image of you

 **[11:50] Futakuchi:** Okay I can call you a stalker then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst has started to boil with some Futakuchi characterization :3 but quality really dipped on me  
> I think things start to pick up in pace next chapter and beyond and then REALLY pick up a few chapters from this one.
> 
> (If y'all didn't notice I squeezed in as much Teru characterization as I could. Because from now on Teru slowly becomes a background character and OiFuta goes on the rise)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which maybe there's something up with Oikawa?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hello to this one scene of Teru and he won't get that much attention until six chapters from now.  
> Also this update is kinda short but like, I wanted it to end on a scene that's plot relevant so there you go.

**110.**

Futakuchi let out a sigh, sitting against the wall. He lifted his water bottle to his lips, enjoying the cool water like a cold window pane in the winter. The stark contrast of the cool water against his worn out and warm to the touch body left a tingling feeling in his stomach.

"Well, well, well," Oikawa waltzed over, a signature pompous grin on his face, "if it isn't the person who lost today's scrimmage."

Futakuchi squinted at Oikawa, letting the silence drag. "Sorry, I had to take a second to get used to your ugliness."

"Aw, Futa-Chan, don't take the loss too hard," Oikawa sat down next to Futakuchi. "It's only expected that I'm better than you."

"Yeah, better than me at being a pain in the ass," Futakuchi retorted. "Which is quite the achievement."

Futakuchi drank from his water bottle while Oikawa contemplated his words.

"I mean, depends on what kind of pain in the ass we're talking about-" Oikawa finally replied.

Futakuchi choked on the huge gulp of water he was about to swallow, almost spitting it out of his mouth completely. He held the water in his mouth, trying to breathe through his now burning nose as Oikawa let out a peal of laughter. Futakuchi managed to swallow the now lukewarm and unpleasant water, wincing at the shove against the dull ache of his chest as the water slid down. He turned toward Oikawa, who was still laughing his ass off like the piece of shit he was. Any annoyed remarks Futakuchi had planned fell flat on the tip of his tongue. He didn't even remember what he was going to say.

Oikawa had never laughed this hard around Futakuchi. Sure, there was mocking laughter and the occasional amused chuckle. Never full out laughter with no ulterior motives. The way Oikawa's lips curved upwards was completely natural, youthful, and frankly dumb. There was no wit in Oikawa's eyes, no smooth and calculated expressions on his face. Instead, Oikawa laughed so hard his nose scrunched up and his body trembled with laughter. There was nothing smart about it, just carefree, rolling laughter. Maybe a glimpse of the Oikawa that Iwaizumi got to see all the time.

Futakuchi's chest ached, but it wasn't from choking on water anymore.

"You sure do love laughing at my expense," Futakuchi commented flatly, watching Oikawa's laughter calm down.

Now that Oikawa could properly breathe again, his eyes moved to meet Futakuchi's gaze. The countless glimmering stars in the depths of Oikawa's eyes were enough to make Futakuchi lose his breath. They were alluring, small speckles that held so much fire and strength to them, but too out of reach to see in detail.

"Futa-Chan, we're in college! You should be able to handle these jokes!" Oikawa snickered. "What? Are you secretly a pure soul?"

"You really think I could stay pure when my best friend is Teru?" Futakuchi rolled his eyes. "Your... _mental_ _ineptitude_ is worse than expected."

Oikawa closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he ran his fingers through his hair. When his eyes fluttered open, the stars were as gone as Oikawa's laughter. The sun shaded over the little speckles again, as if nothing had happened. Futakuchi felt relieved more than anything. If Oikawa had laughed any longer, Futakuchi felt like he would've bore witness to a supernova. One that would wipe him out. Yet Futakuchi, for a split second, wished he could see that supernova, even if it was the last thing he saw. _'Idiot,'_ Futakuchi wanted to throw up.

"You literally need me to help you study," Oikawa said. "That means your _mental_ _ineptitude_ is worse than mine."

"There are different types of intelligence. Even you should know that," Futakuchi remarked.

"You fail all types of intelligence," Oikawa countered.

"I don't fail to notice you've been bothering me more often these days," Futakuchi said.

"That's because Oikawa _totally_ wants your attention." Kuroo appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the wall next to Oikawa.

Futakuchi wasn't sure if it was how quietly Kuroo could walk or his inability to pay attention when Oikawa was around to blame. Maybe it was both.

"Tetsu-Chan!" Oikawa gasped in offense. "What a heinous accusation!"

Kuroo ignored Oikawa in favor of looking at Futakuchi. "Seriously, all he does is complain about you all the time but that only means you're always on his mind-"

" _Tetsu-Chan_!" Oikawa shrieked. "You make it sound like I'm in love with him! You know I have a boyfriend!"

 _'A boyfriend who's your childhood best friend and knows you better than anyone else possibly could that you've been on the same wavelength with for ages.'_ Futakuchi added in his mind, draping his towel over his lowered head to hide the bitter downturn of his lips. He studied his own shadow, blurred on the laminated wooden gym floors.

"Well, duh, you're not in love with Futakuchi, but you clearly want to be his friend," Kuroo said.

"Are we talking about Oikawa-San and Futa's friendship-not-friendship?" A familiar bubbling soda laugh filled Futakuchi's ears.

 _'Oh god, it's Teru.'_ Futakuchi bit back a groan as Terushima sat next to him. Now he was in between his obnoxiously lovable best friend of one and a half years and his obnoxiously gorgeous enemy (?) with no way to escape.

"Well, Futa here," Terushima nudged Futakuchi. _Hard_ , "doesn't shut up about Oikawa-San either. I can't see why they won't just admit that they're friends."

"Because we're not!" The annoyed groan finally escaped Futakuchi's lips.

"Oh, my, you wounded Oikawa," Kuroo joked, nudging Oikawa with his foot.

"I am not wounded!" Oikawa let out a frustrated huff. "Like I'd want to be friends with Futa-Chan!"

"Rightttttt," Kuroo and Terushima said in unison, grinning at each other mischeviously.

"I'm serious!" Oikawa tried to kick Kuroo but Kuroo nimbly stepped back, quick on his feet like always.

"Then look Futa in the eyes and say you wholeheartedly hate him," Terushima said.

Futakuchi glared at Terushima, but couldn't shout at the sparkling neon yellow aura Terushima leaked like an overflowing sink.

When Futakuchi turned back to Oikawa, he found Oikawa staring at him already. Oikawa's lips were pursed, as if he was debating to do what Terushima asked. Futakuchi longed to look away but he couldn't. _God_ , he couldn't. Oikawa's eyes were a lighthouse in stormy seas, glowing like a beacon and stealing attention. In the roaring seas of Futakuchi's blood rushing past his ears from the way his heart thudded, Oikawa's eyes grounded him even if they were the cause to his heart beating so hard. Futakuchi searched Oikawa's eyes to even see the hint of a night sky that would tell him anything. Did Oikawa still hate him? Did Oikawa truly want to be his friend? What was Oikawa thinking about?

"So? You gonna break your poor kouhai's heart?" Kuroo teased.

"How could you say something so cruel to this adorable face?" Terushima chimed in.

"Teru, I'm not adorable," Futakuchi said flatly, still keeping his gaze on Oikawa.

"Yes, you are," Terushima cooed, poking his cheek teasingly.

"Aw, I can see the hurt on Futakuchi's adorable face already," Kuroo smirked.

Futakuchi opened his mouth to deny that he was cute but Oikawa beat him to talking.

"It's like you guys are trying to guilt trip me or something!" Oikawa exclaimed, tearing his eyes away from Futakuchi to scowl at Kuroo. "I don't need to prove anything to you!"

"Ah, the great Oikawa Tooru refuses to hurt our adorable Futakuchi," Kuroo hummed. "Noted."

"He doesn't have to say he hates me for me to know anyway," Futakuchi muttered.

Oikawa turned to look at Futakuchi, his gaze blank. His lips pressed into a straight line and his brows furrowed slightly before he looked away without comment, crossing his arms. Futakuchi glanced between Kuroo and Terushima to see they had identically disappointed expressions on their face.

"Futa..." Terushima started gently, but his exasperation was evident. "Please, tell me you don't actually think Oikawa-San hates you."

"But... he does?" Futakuchi said uncertainly, his eyes moving between the three.

"Futakuchi-Kun, my dear kouhai..." Kuroo let out a sigh, facepalming. "Honey, _no_."

"I forgot how shit you are with emotions," Terushima chided. "You never learn."

"Jeez, okay! I was kidding or whatever," Futakuchi grumbled. "Me and Oikawa get along okay, I guess?"

"Wow, Oikawa!" Kuroo laughed. "Imagine _Futakuchi_ being the one to fess up before you? See how unreasonable you're being?"

"I feel offended," Futakuchi said. "Oh, wait, never mind. I forgot I don't care about your opinion."

Kuroo gasped loudly, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, Futakuchi-Kun, how you wound me!"

"Ugh, okay, I'm leaving," Oikawa stood up and Futakuchi bit back the desire to ask him to stay. "I came here to relax and instead I'm getting harassed by my idiot best friend and his new recruit idiot."

"I'm not stupid!" Terushima protested.

"Bye bye, Oikawa," Kuroo called as Oikawa stalked off. He took Oikawa's spot next to Futakuchi. "Don't worry about it, bud. Oikawa likes you more than he let's on, trust me."

"Um... okay?" Futakuchi chewed on his lip.

He had just wanted to relax after the scrimmage, not turmoil over if Oikawa actually enjoyed his company. Kuroo was right, probably. Futakuchi had heard Oikawa admit it himself to Iwaizumi over the phone. Yet the uncertainty gnawed at Futakuchi. This was why he was friends with Terushima. From the start, he was blunt and honest, there was nothing to unravel on his own. All he had to do was ask, and Terushima would answer truthfully. Most of the time.

Oikawa was complex. He never said his upfront opinion. Every smile and word was calculated. It seemed like Oikawa enjoyed his persona, but it was still a persona. Not the real, complete, honest version of Oikawa. He hid the small sparkling stars under the overbearing suns in his eyes. He wouldn't let anyone pick apart the tiny details without his permission. Futakuchi didn't like playing guessing games. But the only time he was hooked on one, it had to be the one person outside his reach. Futakuchi let out a noisy sigh and leaned on Terushima, pushing down the bubbling thoughts before they boiled his brain.

**109.**

Futakuchi started to work at his desk rather than his bed. The change didn't go unnoticed by Terushima.

"Y'know," Terushima said, and when Futakuchi looked over, Terushima was on his back and had an open book on his face. "You've always preferred working on your bed for as long as I've known you."

"Well, it'd be pretty stupid to have a desk and then just not use it," Futakuchi lied.

"I guess that's true," Terushima conceded, his voice muffled by the book.

"Why do you have a book on your face?" Futakuchi asked.

"I like the smell." Terushima accentuated his words with a loud sniff.

Futakuchi snorted at Terushima's stupidity. "Well, enjoy your dead trees and ink, I guess."

"Thanks," Terushima said.

Terushima ended up falling asleep like that, book on his face and on top of his blankets. Futakuchi had to carefully get Terushima under his blanket and scavenge for Terushima's favorite bookmark (it had fallen under the bed) to save Terushima's page and left the book next to Terushima's pillow. By the time he was done, the smell of sunshine clung to him like a sticky summer heat following him everywhere. Futakuchi shrugged it off; as long as he wasn't swamped by the smell like when he and Terushima switched beds, it was pleasant.

Futakuchi sat back down at his desk and resumed his work, sneaking a glance out his window every ten minutes. The hours ticked by as nightfall truly settled in. It was only around one thirty that when Futakuchi looked up, there was a lit up window on the fourth floor. Futakuchi's thought process for his work flew out the window, honing in on watching a silhouette cast a shadow in the rectangle of florescent light in the otherwise natural night.

For some reason, Futakuchi preferred the nights that he got to see the mystery guy on the fourth floor. Maybe it was because he liked knowing someone's sleep schedule was as fucked over as his. He wasn't sure, but it was nice working and looking up every couple of minutes to see the silhouette lounging at their window. This particular night, he had the company of the mystery silhouette for an hour, which was longer than usual. When Futakuchi looked up to see the light on the fourth floor was out, he glanced at the time and supposed he could go thirty more minutes before going to sleep.

**108.**

There was no practice today, so Futakuchi decided to relax in his bed for the short time it was quiet while Terushima was gone to spend time hanging out with Ennoshita. _'Lovesick idiot.'_ Futakuchi sighed to himself just imagining Terushima looking at Ennoshita like no one else in the world existed while Ennoshita wasn't paying attention. He cut the thoughts out when he also started imagining how Ennoshita would smile softly at Terushima while he was too busy buzzing in his seat to notice. _'Lovesick idiots.'_ Futakuchi corrected himself in his head, and left it at that.

He was fully unwound and relaxed when the door of his dorm room was unpleasantly slammed open, revealing Terushima with an exuberant smile on his face. Futakuchi could only manage a short prayer to the peace and quiet that was no longer meant to be before Terushima slammed the door shut (not locking it, per usual) and bolted over to Futakuchi, jumping on top of him.

Futakuchi's breath was instantly knocked out of him, and he let out a groan that sounded more like a wheeze. Terushima seemed to not care, his eyes as bright as being awoken by summer sunlight hitting your eyelids. Natural, and either unpleasant or great, depending on who you asked. Futakuchi himself tended to be on the "unpleasant" end of the spectrum. He glared at Terushima, who grinned triumphantly down at him. Futakuchi took the pillow from under his head and smacked Terushima with it.

"You dolt! Why the fuck are you jumping on me?! It's not like you're light!" Futakuchi growled.

"Right, sorry, sorry!" Terushima grinned. "But guess what?"

"Uh, I dunno, you got the balls to confess to Ennoshita and he said yes?" Futakuchi guessed.

Terushima's face flushed. "No! Why would I just randomly confess to Ennoshita? I need to know I'm gonna do it at least a day before!"

"Wimp."

"Brat."

"Cheeky bastard."

"Asshole."

"Piece of shit."

"Bitch."

"Anyway, what got you so damn excited?" Futakuchi asked.

"Oh! On my way back here, I ran into Kuroo-San and he told me that apparently the colleges here take turns hosting parties before the tournament starts!" Terushima practically shouted.

"Ugh, people," Futakuchi groaned. "Don't fraternize with the enemy, Teru."

"But I heard the parties are fun as hell!" Terushima whined. "Besides, you get less prickly with a few drinks!"

"We're allowed to drink? I'm suspicious. There's no way Takahashi-San would let us drink," Futakuchi pushed Terushima off his lap, sitting up properly.

"But he won't be watching us the whole night," Terushima giggled. "He might be upset but he can't do much about it. According to Kuroo-San, all the first years drink anyway!"

"Well, in that case, hell yeah." Futakuchi finally adopted the glow of excitement flowing off Terushima in waves.

"I can't wait!" Terushima's voice sounded close to a squeal and he grinned. "Think about it, Futa, hot guys everywhere."

"Oh. _That's_ what you're excited about." Futakuchi rolled his eyes. "Of course. Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you've know me for almost two years?" Terushima shoved Futakuchi. "Brat."

"How do you know there's going to be hot guys everywhere?" Futakuchi asked.

"Futa, you know this. At _least_ the majority of volleyball players are hot." Terushima shook his head. "Why're all volleyball players so fucking hot?"

"Don't ask me, I have no idea," Futakuchi shrugged.

Terushima hummed, thinking about god knows what. Futakuchi knew the conversation would pick up eventually so he simply shifted and waited for Terushima to speak.

Terushima's eyes lit up. "Who would you date out of all the first years?" A cheeky grin followed. "Besides me."

"Funny that you think you're the first choice," Futakuchi snickered.

"Shut up, I know I'd be your first choice." Terushima flopped back, staring at the ceiling.

Futakuchi laid down next to him, also observing the ceiling. "Well, yeah. I guess we'd be pretty compatible."

"Sooo..." Terushima paused awkwardly, "who'd you date?"

"I guess..." Futakuchi contemplated his options. "Kawaguchi is too energetic and happy. He's not really my type. Saito is kinda cute though."

"Saito is _very_ cute," Terushima agreed. "Have you seen that adorable smile?"

"I don't think I would date Saito though. He seems a bit scared of me," Futakuchi said.

"That would leave... Yokozawa," Terushima said.

"Yokozawa has a pretty face," Futakuchi admitted. "He's kinda quiet but quiet people can be my type sometimes."

"True." Terushima nodded. "But, Yokozawa totally has a thing for Yamada-San."

Futakuchi shot Terushima a quick glance. "Yokozawa has a thing for Yamada-San? No way."

"Futa, you're just dense. You get no hints. Someone could say 'I love you with my everything' and you would think they meant platonically," Terushima scoffed. "How could you not notice the way they talk to each other?"

"If I'm really that dense, what does it say when I can tell you and Ennoshita are lovesick for each other?" Futakuchi retorted.

Terushima sputtered. "I- I don't think Ennoshita likes me like-"

"Oh, shut up, you coward," Futakuchi sighed noisily. "Yeah, maybe I only noticed it because you admitted you love Ennoshita but now it's painfully obvious how much you two love each other."

"You shut up," Terushima muttered lamely, fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

"Anyway, who would you date? Besides me," Futakuchi snickered at how embarrassed Terushima got at the mention of Ennoshita.

"Hands down Saito. He is so cute and sweet and he deserves the world," Terushima declared. "Okay, who out of the second years would you date?"

"Well, Oikawa and Kuroo-San both have boyfriends..." Futakuchi pointed out.

"Oh. Okay, who out of the second years do you think is your type? Or closest to your type?" Terushima rephrased the question.

Futakuchi instantly crossed off Yamada from the list and then let the rest of the names linger in his head. He frowned thoughtfully.

"Just say Oikawa-San, you coward." Terushima broke the silence.

Futakuchi's heart leaped into his throat. "Oikawa is _not_ my type."

"He is."

"He isn't."

The deadpan look Terushima gave Futakuchi persisted until he caved with a sigh. He looked back at the ceiling and muttered quietly.

"Okay, he's kinda my type."

"I knew it."

"But I think Kuroo-San is actually more my type."

"Kuroo-San?" Terushima echoed. "I mean, he would be my second pick but why Kuroo-San?"

"He reminds me of you."

It was only in the dead silence that followed after that Futakuchi processed what he had said so casually. His gaze snapped to Terushima's face. Terushima's expression was blank besides the surprise flickering in the flames of his neon yellow colored suns hidden in his chocolate brown eyes.

"Ah... no homo," Futakuchi averted his gaze awkwardly. "I don't see you like that or anything just- you're kinda my type... But I only see you as a friend! A best friend!"

"Chill out, dude," Terushima's bubbling soda laughter burst out as quickly as twisting off a cap from a bottle. Futakuchi felt a light smack on his arm. "I get it. I was going to say Oikawa-San is closest to my type because he reminds me of you."

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to Oikawa," Futakuchi shoved Terushima roughly, only earning himself more laughter spilling out of Terushima.

"I just did." Terushima's laughter died down as quickly as the bubbling foam from a newly opened soda bottle. "Anyway, why are me and Kuroo-San alike?"

"You both look like you'd be a 'bad boy' type but then turn out to be a dork, a nerd, and completely childish while sustaining some sass," Futakuchi said.

"Hm, you're actually right," Terushima smiled. "Do you want me to tell you why you and Oikawa-San are alike?"

"Fuck no."

"Well, to begin-"

" _Fuck no_."

**107.**

The music was _loud_ in the living room. Futakuchi didn't bother speaking to anyone because that would involve raising his voice, and he didn't think it was worth the effort. At least not until he was a bit tipsy with the pleasant buzz of alcohol in his veins. 

The moment the team had walked in, they immediately dispersed in different directions (even Terushima ran off, the fucking traitor) and left Futakuchi by himself. He had caught glimpses of them throughout the night. Yokozawa dealing with a tipsy and giggling Yamada, Saito being coaxed out to dance by Kawaguchi, Terushima chatting with a bunch of faces Futakuchi didn't recognize, Kuroo making out with that libero boyfriend of his, and more that he didn't bother to remember.

After looking in the backyard and seeing that there were people shouting and being drunk there as well, Futakuchi decided to go to the kitchen to get more beer. Maybe people will be more bearable if he got more alcohol in his system.

**106.**

The kitchen didn't hold that many people. It was the only place that was lit by the actual room light compared to party lights, and was relatively quiet compared to the rest of the house. There were two people kissing with the girl on the counter top with her legs wrapped around the guy's hips. Futakuchi stared at them in mild disgust before looking away. There was only one person besides them.

Oikawa had his head hidden in his crossed arms, resting on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Futakuchi's eyes raked over the one, two, three- seven empty cans of beer surrounding Oikawa. To add to that, there was one opened, and three unopened. Futakuchi frowned and moved closer, taking a seat in the chair next to Oikawa. Oikawa lifted his head, his face flushed and his eyes foggy like a cloudy night. The alcohol had banished the sun, but the stars weren't clear through the fog. Futakuchi could only catch glimpses of glimmers as Oikawa stared at him.

"Hey," Futakuchi began awkwardly.

Oikawa let out a grunt, a rather strong contrast to the usually gracefully and calculated way he acted around Futakuchi. Futakuchi watched as Oikawa reached out to the open can of beer and tipped it back, downing all the remaining contents in one shot. Oikawa put down the now empty can and rested his forehead on his open palm, his elbow propping him up. His eyes fluttered shut, his beautiful eyelashes casting a ghost of a shadow from the harsh lighting of the kitchen.

"Hey," Oikawa murmured quietly.

It was raw. Futakuchi didn't like the stir of worry in his gut at how tired Oikawa sounded. He looked defeated, weak, vulnerable. There was nothing demanding about the slump of Oikawa's shoulders, nothing intentional about the sigh that escaped Oikawa's lips, nothing powerful in Oikawa's eyes when they flickered over to Futakuchi. The alcohol wasn't fog, it was pollution. It clouded over, built up and pensive, blotting out the sparkle of stars in Oikawa's eyes. The glimmer of even the strongest star was fainter under the musk of pollution from exhaustion, alcohol, and negativity. For once, Oikawa's head got the better of him, and he seemed to be drowning in the outcome. Or maybe he was choking. The pollution was only getting thicker as the alcohol Oikawa just chugged kicked in. Maybe it was like smoke. Suffocating. Burning. Painful.

"Can I have one?" Futakuchi nodded to the unopened cans of beer.

"Yeah, whatever," Oikawa grabbed a can for himself.

"I expected you to be socializing," Futakuchi said as he opened his beer.

"Fuck that," Oikawa grumbled. "People suck. I-"

Oikawa seemed to lose his train of thought and his brows furrowed in an effort to remember only for a split second before he let it go, his expression returning to exhausted.

"People do suck," Futakuchi agreed. "They can be way too annoying."

"Or they can just use how much you care for them to fuck you over," Oikawa spat, but just like earlier, the effort of expressing emotion seemed to daunting and Oikawa simply gulped down more alcohol.

"Is that why you're not with Kuroo-San?" Futakuchi sipped his beer, trying his best to handle the conversation.

He had spent enough time with Terushima for _some_ of Terushima's comforting skills to rub off on him. As long as the person wasn't crying. He couldn't handle crying.

"Kuroo would ask questions," Oikawa muttered. "Besides, he's too busy eating his boyfriend out or whatever."

In any other situation, that would've been hilarious. Even in this one, Futakuchi felt tempted to laugh, but the dead look in Oikawa's eyes stifled the desire. He was cracked and rubbed raw. With every slight movement of Oikawa's flexing fingers or slight turn of Oikawa's head, Futakuchi could practically hear the creak and groan of something about to give in.

"Yeah, I saw him with his boyfriend earlier," Futakuchi said instead. "But I guess it's a party after all. He would want to have some fun. What about you? Your boyfriend isn't here?"

"Nope. Had to study for an upcoming test or some shit," Oikawa waved dismissively. "Whatever."

There was a moment of silence.

"Hey, you... uh... you alright?" Futakuchi shifted awkwardly.

"'M fine," Oikawa's gaze slid over to Futakuchi.

"You sure?" Futakuchi, for once, almost felt threatened, the dead look in Oikawa's eyes more withering than any calculated gaze.

"Why would you care?" Oikawa asked dismissively, focusing his eyes on his beer.

Then, as if what he said wasn't barbed and instead casual, Oikawa tipped his head back and demolished the can of beer, drinking every last drop. Futakuchi flinched away from Oikawa when Oikawa looked at him.

"Okay, sheesh," Futakuchi stood up. "I'm not in the mood to deal with your sour attitude. We're not close enough for this anyways, I guess."

"Sure." Oikawa said distractedly, opening another can of beer.

"Have fun drinking away your problems, Oikawa-San." Futakuchi hissed.

He felt Oikawa's gaze on him as he stalked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa shows unhealthy habits :) I wonder why :)))
> 
> Anyways, DID YOU KNOW THERE'S GONNA BE AN OIFUTA WEEK IN NOVEMBER??? I have never been so ready to participate in something. The prompts are on Twitter and I'm so rEADY. I'm preparing already if I'm being honest.
> 
> So um yeah, I made a Twitter account. If you want to see me shit post fic ideas and generally talk of rarepairs (mostly OiFuta) then my user is @RarepairsPlease. I might also drop short clips of chapters of ATW there before I actually post the chapters soooo yeah.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Futakuchi once again thinks love is weird and dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh,,, I am on a roll this week and I just want to write myself to fatigue and pass out at my desk (but I'm taking care of myself I swear!! I've never actually passed out at my desk). So take these fast updates while I'm dishing them out. Idk when the update schedule will slow down again but I'm praying to cut through the next "arc" of sorts in this fic and get around to more plot relevant stuff while I'm still on a roll.

**105.**

The night had breached into 1 AM, and Futakuchi found himself borderline drunk. Still being able to think clearly, but much more sociable. Due to this new development, Futakuchi decided to go on a search for Terushima, since he was actually in the mood to deal with Terushima's dumb, crazy antics that happened when Terushima was drunk. Or so he thought.

After looking around the house with only one stumble, Futakuchi headed towards the backyard. Slipping past groups of chatting people, he found his way to the backdoor. He stepped into the backyard, greeted by the cool air spring at nighttime. The sky was clear and decorated with twinkling stars. Though Futakuchi could recall seeing more stars out in Miyagi, there was still an abundant amount in Tokyo. The air filled in the shape of Futakuchi's lungs, clearing out some of the alcohol induced bleariness. It was only then that he noticed it.

Futakuchi squinted at the cow plushies scattered around the backyard. They were tiny, and frankly, very cute but there were at least fifteen, at most twenty just scattered around the backyard, completely unexplained. When Futakuchi's brain finally registered the shouting and explosive laughter, he looked up from his study of cow plushies on the ground.

Bokuto, Terushima, and Ushijima were all lifting Oikawa, who was wearing a cow onesie (where the fuck were all these cow themed things coming from???), into the air while Kuroo shouted things into the sky. All of them except for Ushijima were obviously drunk, with Oikawa being completely wasted and laughing his ass off.

"OH, GREAT ANCIENT ALIENS, COME FORTH FROM THE DEPTHS OF SPACE AND TAKE OUR HUMAN SACRIFICE!"

"Kuroo, this is an alien summoning, not a satanic ritual!" Bokuto laughed.

"Same difference!" Kuroo waved the flashlight he was holding for dramatic emphasis.

"I do believe that an alien summoning and a satanic ritual are two different things," Ushijima said, his voice as monotone as Futakuchi recalled.

"BUTT PROBING, SELLING YOUR SOUL TO THE DEVIL, WHATEVER! PRETTY MUCH THE SAME THING!" Kuroo declared.

"ISN'T ALL THIS SCREAMING GOING TO SCARE AWAY THE ALIENS?" Terushima shouted.

"WE HAVE A HUMAN SACRIFICE! WHY WOULD THE ALIENS NOT WANT A HUMAN FOR FREE?!" Kuroo retorted.

"I THOUGHT WE DRESSED OIKAWA UP AS A COW TO TRICK THE ALIENS!" Bokuto butted in. "SO WHY ARE WE TELLING THE GREAT ANCIENT ALIENS THAT OIKAWA IS HUMAN?"

"I agree with Bokuto," Ushijima said, his voice the only one at a normal level. "It's very contradictory."

"DON'T LISTEN TO KUROO, ALIENS. THIS IS A COW SACRIFICE, I SWEAR!" Bokuto directed his words at the starry sky.

None of them had noticed Futakuchi yet, even as Futakuchi doubled over and tried to stifle his laughter with his hand. Maybe Ushijima noticed him, but decided not to bring it up to the group. Gasping for air, Futakuchi's eyes blurred over with tears as he let out a soft wheeze. He fumbled for his phone, pulling it out to record a video while trying to not let his laughter spiral out of control.

At this point, Kuroo was simply waving his flashlight in circles above him while making what he claimed were alien noises. It was a disaster waiting to happen. The flashlight flew out of Kuroo's hand and hit Terushima in the face, causing Terushima to screech and topple to the ground.

"ALIEN ATTACK!" Bokuto screamed in a panic, letting go of Oikawa and leaping into Ushijima's arms.

Ushijima fumbled to catch him and ended up dropping Oikawa, who fell with a high pitched squeal. Futakuchi nearly fell over himself simply from laughing.

"ALIEN ATTACK? WHERE?" Kuroo glanced around him frantically before grabbing Terushima. "TAKE COVER!"

Futakuchi actually fell over laughing as Kuroo rolled into a bush with Terushima in his arms.

"OW! WHAT THE FUCK THIS SHRUB HAS THORNS!" Terushima shouted.

Futakuchi let out a breathless wheeze, his lungs going from cold to burning with the gasps of cool air he breathed in between laughing his ass off. Bokuto was still clinging to Ushijima but had finished his survey of his surroundings and turned to look at Ushijima.

"Wow, you look even hotter close up," Bokuto said, staring at Ushijima.

Futakuchi's laughter returned and his sides started to ache.

"I believe that's the alcohol in your system speaking," Ushijima said, shifting Bokuto's weight in his arms.

"Yeah, maybe, but now I kinda want you to fuck me," Bokuto said.

"DAMN, DAS HAWT. VERY SEXC." Kuroo's voice came from the bush he rolled into.

"KUROO-SAN, I THINK WE'RE STUCK IN HERE." Terushima's voice added.

"Wait, is that a root pressing against me or do you have a boner?" Kuroo asked. "Because I have a boyfriend-"

"HAH, GAY."

"SHUT UP, YOU'RE GAY TOO."

"I'M BI."

"HEY, BI, I'M DAD."

Futakuchi slammed his fist on the grassy ground, trying to reel in his laughter. He was on his hands and knees, wheezing and sputtering as he grappled to get a good breath of air.

"Futakuchi, if it would not be a bother, could you perhaps help me?" Ushijima turned to Futakuchi. "I think these four need to sit down. They could get seriously injured."

"One... second," Futakuchi strangled out between shallow breaths for air.

"Bokuto, do you think you can walk on your own?" Ushijima asked Bokuto.

"I don't know, you're so handsome you make my knees feel weak," Bokuto cooed.

"Very well then, I'll carry you into the house," Ushijima said, starting to move. "Futakuchi, can you try to get Kuroo and Terushima out of the bush?"

Futakuchi gave a weak thumbs up as Ushijima passed by him.

"Ushijima, you make me swoon," Bokuto giggled. "Are you going to protect me from the aliens?"

"There are no aliens, but yes, I'll make sure you're safe," Ushijima said.

Futakuchi's laughter died out after some seconds and he picked up his phone, ending the video. He didn't recall dropping his phone, but it most likely happened when he fell over from laughing. He stood up, leaning against the wall for support as he caught his breath. He moved over to the bush that Terushima and Kuroo rolled into.

"Hey, guys? You alive in there?" Futakuchi peered in and saw Terushima and Kuroo huddled together under the bush.

"We're great." Kuroo might've flashed a thumbs up. "Just having fun getting molested by thorns."

Futakuchi snorted and bit back another fit of laughter.

"Well, Thorns-San isn't very gentle so I have to tell him no," Terushima complained. "I'm a bad bitch but I want to be pampered."

Futakuchi laughed as he used a random shirt he found on the floor to cover his hands as he fought to help Kuroo and Terushima get untangled from the bush. Terushima slithered out first and then they together managed to pull Kuroo out too.

"Jeez, what the fuck!" Kuroo kicked a branch of thorns clinging to his pants. "These thorns are as clingy as a possessive ex-boyfriend!"

Laughing was actually becoming a painful task at this point for Futakuchi.

"Hey, what the fuck happened here?"

Futakuchi looked up to see Kuroo's boyfriend walking into the backyard, looking around in confusion.

"Oh, hey-"

"MORISUKEEEEE!" Kuroo shouted gleefully. "You missed so much! We got assaulted by aliens and then molested by thorns."

"I'm giving this experience one star on Yelp," Terushima huffed.

"God, they're so fucking wasted." Kuroo's boyfriend facepalmed. He turned to Futakuchi. "Ushijima told me Tetsurou needed some help. I'm Yaku Morisuke. I apologize on Tetsurou's behalf for him being a total dumbass."

"Futakuchi Kenji," Futakuchi smiled. "Just so you know, Kuroo-San never shuts up about you."

Yaku's face flushed. "Ugh, that sappy idiot."

There was that fond look again. Lovesick. The sight of it made Futakuchi uneasy. How easily someone's mood could be changed by something as simple as that. It felt dangerous, but it seemed like only Futakuchi thought that way.

"Anyway," Futakuchi brushed off the thought, "can you handle these two? I wanted to check up on Oikawa-San. Y'know, make sure he's not dead."

"Yeah, I got this." Yaku nodded.

Futakuchi thanked Yaku and headed over to Oikawa, who hadn't moved since he was dropped. Futakuchi looked down at Oikawa, waiting for Oikawa's eyes to focus on him.

"Hey. How dead are you feeling?" Futakuchi asked.

"Ugh," Oikawa groaned.

"Can you stand? Or walk?" Futakuchi offered Oikawa a hand. "Were you trying to get blackout drunk? Are you stupid or what?"

Oikawa blinked, his eyes becoming unfocused again. Futakuchi sighed, reaching down and grabbing Oikawa by the wrists, pulling him up. Oikawa stumbled to his feet but instantly slumped onto Futakuchi as if he was boneless. Futakuchi almost fell under the sudden weight but managed to adjust. He moved Oikawa's arm over his shoulders and slipped his arm around Oikawa's waist.

Even through the layers of clothing, the press of Oikawa leaning on him lit up sparks all over Futakuchi's skin. Oikawa smelled slightly of beer and sweat, his hair unkempt and his eyes still polluted, but it was Oikawa. The one that made Futakuchi feel funny. Futakuchi had just gotten his breath back, and Oikawa stole it simply by leaning against him.

"You're hopeless," Futakuchi sighed, heading toward the back door.

Oikawa mumbled something unintelligible in response and Futakuchi just let out another sigh.

**104.**

Futakuchi was awoken by someone shaking his shoulder. He let out a tiny groan, scrunching up his nose at the discomfort. The person shook Futakuchi again and Futakuchi grunted, sitting up. His muscles ached, like cogs set into motion after years of rust.

"Yo, Futakuchi, you alright?" Yaku's voice finally cut into the fog of Futakuchi's head.

"Ah, Yaku-San," Futakuchi squinted in the vibrant daylight pouring into the living room. "What happened?"

"Well, you all passed out," Yaku said. "It's ten in the morning. Most of the people who fell asleep here already left."

"Ugh..." Futakuchi winced at the slight headache throbbing in his head. "How're the idiot four?"

"Terushima's asleep next to you," Yaku pointed at Terushima, who was curled up on the floor with a cow plushie in his arms. "Kuroo's up and Bokuto already left. Oikawa is suffering from a huge migraine on the couch and puked into the garbage can at least three times."

"Oi, Teru," Futakuchi smacked Terushima's arm. "Wake up."

Terushima cracked an eye open before instantly groaning. "I feel like a zombie."

"That's what you get for drinking so much," Futakuchi said.

"What the fuck? I look like I got assaulted by twenty kittens." Terushima's legs and face were littered with small scratches. "Oh. That fucking bush."

"Anyway, since we're all still here, the guy who lives here asked us to help clean up," Yaku said.

Futakuchi let out a louder groan, dropping his head in his hands.

"C'mon, once you get moving you should start to feel a little better," Yaku sighed. "Me, Bokuto, and Ushijima already cleaned up most of the mess before Bokuto left. It's only the living room and the kitchen."

"I feel like jelly," Terushima complained, waving his arms weakly.

Futakuchi sighed and stood up, helping Terushima up as well. Futakuchi glanced around, taking in his surroundings in the daylight. Beer cans were speckled around the room, along with things like a sock or some trampled over food. He could hear Kuroo and Ushijima in the kitchen, presumably cleaning up. Oikawa was sprawled on the couch, a pillow on his face and a garbage can nearby. Somewhere in the night, he had changed out of the cow onesie Futakuchi last saw him in. Futakuchi wandered over.

"Didn't know you were a cow furry, Oikawa-San," Futakuchi taunted, peering down at Oikawa.

" _Shut up_ ," Oikawa grumbled under the pillow. "You saw _nothing_."

"I saw nothing if you buy me five packs of sour gummies," Futakuchi offered.

Oikawa let out a groan. "You're kidding me."

"No, not really," Futakuchi hummed.

"I hate you."

"Is that a yes?"

Oikawa paused. "Yeah, whatever."

"Great. You're the best, Oikawa-San." Futakuchi lightly patted the pillow on Oikawa's face. "Get better soon. You look like a corpse."

Futakuchi walked away before Oikawa could respond and joined Yaku in picking up the empty beer cans while Terushima went to get a broom to sweep up the crumbs of food. Kuroo and Ushijima finished up in the kitchen and joined Futakuchi and Yaku in the living room. They worked mostly in silence, too tired and bleary to bother making conversation.

"Futakuchi-Kun." Kuroo tapped Futakuchi's shoulder before pointing at Oikawa. "He wants to talk to you."

"Um... okay." Futakuchi glanced between Oikawa and Kuroo.

Walking across the now mostly clean floor, Futakuchi stopped at the couch.

"Need something, Oikawa-San?" Futakuchi asked, crouching down to be eye level with Oikawa.

After a long beat of silence, Oikawa moved the pillow off his face. Oikawa grimaced as he opened his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes again, rubbing his temples and taking a deep breath before looking at Futakuchi. His eyes weren't polluted, but they weren't clear. They were hazy, as if the stars in his eyes were simply a reflection on water, distorted by small ocean waves. The swaying flickers of light were uncontrolled and hypnotic. Futakuchi averted his gaze before Oikawa could notice he was staring.

"Does the five packs of sour gummies also help you forget how I was acting last night?"

The question was thrown into the silence almost casually, but the pressed line of Oikawa's mouth wasn't from the migraine he was dealing with. Futakuchi shuffled through his memories until he realized Oikawa was talking about what happened in the kitchen. Futakuchi wanted to scoff, was Oikawa bribing him? But then he narrowed his eyes at Oikawa and realized it was a weird form of Oikawa showing regret.

"No." Futakuchi let out a huff. "But an apology might."

Oikawa's starry ocean eyes turned away, focusing on the ceiling. Futakuchi crossed his arms and rested them on the edge of the couch, staring at Oikawa expectantly. Oikawa let out a breath of air, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry." Oikawa said, ever so softly. "I-"

"Woah, just 'I'm sorry' works. Don't get cheesy and explain to me. I get it." Futakuchi hesitated before punching Oikawa's arm lightly. "Besides, we're not close enough for that yet, Oikawa."

Oikawa let out a quiet huff of laughter. "I guess so."

**103.**

"Ugh... how are we going to get back?" Kuroo sighed. "Oikawa's dead on his feet and I don't want to walk."

"I can drive you," Ushijima offered. "Your college is on my route back."

"Really?" Terushima stared at Ushijima like he was a god that broke through the heavens. "I could kiss you right now, in the no homo way."

"Is there a no homo version of kissing?" Futakuchi frowned.

"Uhhh," Terushima wracked his brain. "Okay, if you say no homo first, cheek kisses can be no homo."

"I don't know, that still sounds kind of homo to me." Kuroo grunted as he sat Oikawa up, letting Oikawa slump on him. "And thanks, Ushijima."

"I'm fine with taking a bus back or walking. My college is close enough," Yaku said. "It's in the opposite direction too."

"Aw, Morisuke," Kuroo pouted. "Just transfer colleges."

"As if, idiot," Yaku scoffed. "Besides, we played together for years. It's a nice middle school throwback to kick your ass on the court."

"I'm going to make you eat those words." Kuroo narrowed his eyes.

"I'd love to see you try." Yaku's challenging gaze slipped into a tiny smile.

"Futakuchi, take Oikawa for me?" Kuroo asked. "I wanna suffocate my boyfriend with affection before he leaves."

"Gross." Futakuchi took Kuroo's place next to Oikawa on the couch, feigning casualness as Oikawa leaned on him.

"Aw, Futakuchi-Kun, your heart is ice cold!" Kuroo teased. "It's called being in love, ever felt that?"

"Once," Futakuchi grunted. "Maybe. I think."

"Wait- actually?" Kuroo gawked at Futakuchi.

"I've told you this before," Futakuchi deadpanned.

"Wow," Yaku loudly interrupted. "I sure feel suffocated with affection from my dorky boyfriend."

"Morisuke!" Kuroo hugged Yaku, picking him up and spinning around. "Aw, you want my hugs and kisses?"

"Why else would I be dating you?" Yaku cupped Kuroo's face and leaned in.

Futakuchi cringed at the sight of Kuroo and Yaku kissing. _'Am I really that weird for thinking love is stupid?'_ Futakuchi let out a sigh. _'I don't want to just give my heart to someone when I don't even know if they love me back. Falling in love is dumb.'_ A small giggle escaped Yaku when Kuroo showered his face in kisses. _'Being in love is dumb. Love is dumb.'_ Oikawa let out a tiny noise of pain from his migraine and Futakuchi barely caught himself from running his fingers through Oikawa's hair. _'I hate this.'_ Futakuchi wanted nothing more than to rip out the perpetrators of the funny feelings ignited in his body, but that would kill him. Futakuchi reluctantly sat through the weight pressed against his arm and Kuroo trying to kiss every inch of Yaku's face.

"Okay, stop it!" Yaku let out a laugh, pushing Kuroo away. "I should get going if I want to get some rest."

"Morisuke, don't leave me," Kuroo whined, pulling Yaku into another hug.

"You're such a baby, Tetsu." Yaku placed a quick kiss on Kuroo's forehead. "It's not like you're never going to see me again."

"It feels like it," Kuroo pouted.

Futakuchi narrowed his eyes. How could Kuroo just say that so casually? How'd he deal with the longing? _'Is it normal to hurt while being in love? That's fucking dumb.'_ Futakuchi almost wanted to let out an amused chuckle at how foolish it all sounded. Everyone was okay with it? Why? Not that Futakuchi would ever ask the question, because the last time he did, Terushima looked at him as if he asked why bones break when you fall from high heights. The other time he asked, he'd received chuckles and a pat on the head along with the words 'you just don't understand yet.'

The six decided to finally leave the house, thanking the guy who lived there. Kuroo and Yaku walked hand in hand, whispering to each other while Terushima decided to call Ennoshita to talk to him about last night. Futakuchi was left to help Oikawa walk. Again.

"And, like, me and Kuroo-San rolled into a bush, but it turned out it has thorns!" Terushima explained excitedly. "What? Yeah, I'm fine! Only a lot of tiny scratches!"

"Lovesick idiots," Futakuchi muttered under his breath. "Love is dumb."

Oikawa let out a tiny chuckle at that and Futakuchi's face flushed. He expected Oikawa to also belittle or tease his views, but instead Oikawa let out a sigh and nodded slightly.

"Yeah, love is dumb," Oikawa agreed. "But humans do stupid things all the time. Love is no exception."

Futakuchi stared at Oikawa. "Why do you suddenly sound as ancient as those aliens you tried to summon last night?"

"Futa-Chan, I am going to kill you," Oikawa mumbled weakly, wincing at what Futakuchi could only assume was his headache intensifying. "Attacking me while I have a raging hangover is not very nice."

Futakuchi was going to answer, but Ushijima came to a stop at his car.

"I call shotgun!" Kuroo declared.

"Damn it!" Terushima pouted. "I wanted shotgun!"

"First come, first serve," Kuroo winked as he opened the door and sat down.

Futakuchi ended up between Oikawa and Terushima in the back of the car. He scrunched his nose in disgust when Kuroo rolled down the window so Yaku could kiss him one last time. Terushima had hung up, but he was still texting Ennoshita, based off the goofy grin on his face. Futakuchi carefully reached over Oikawa's lap to buckle him in, ignoring Oikawa's breath tickling his neck to the best of his ability. Kuroo and Yaku exchanged the usual 'I love you's and 'see you later's before Yaku finally stepped back and Ushijima started the car.

Futakuchi leaned back in his seat, anticipating getting back to his dorm and passing out on his bed. He let Kuroo and Terushima's chatter fill the car with white noise as his thoughts faded into nothing. Then there was a weight on his shoulder.

"What're you doing?" Futakuchi cringed at how stiff the words came out.

"Mngh," Oikawa didn't open his eyes, looping his arm around Futakuchi's and pressing closer.

 _'Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.'_ Futakuchi stared out the window, trying his best to tune out the weight on his shoulder. As if Oikawa simply leaning against him wasn't already enough to make Futakuchi freak out, now Oikawa was resting his head on Futakuchi's shoulder.

"I'm not a body pillow, y'know," Futakuchi grumbled.

Oikawa didn't respond. Futakuchi spared a glance at Oikawa to see that his face had smoothed over, and his breathing had deepened. He was asleep. Futakuchi wanted to jump out of Ushijima's car and hopefully get run over by another one. The serene, unguarded way Oikawa slept made Futakuchi feel like he was the one who was unprepared. _'It's okay, Kenji.'_ Futakuchi told himself. _'Just your pretty frenemy resting his head on your shoulder and sleeping really cutely- yeah, not okay. Fuck.'_

Futakuchi took a deep breath while trying to stay still. Oikawa had immobilized his ability to use one whole arm. Fantastic. Futakuchi glanced around the car for something to look at for a distraction but found nothing. He decided to talk to someone.

"Kuroo-San?" Futakuchi said.

"What's up, dearest kouhai?" Kuroo turned to look at him.

Futakuchi searched for a conversation topic. _'Oh.'_ Oikawa was asleep, he couldn't hear anything.

"Do you know why Oikawa was trying to get blackout drunk last night?" Futakuchi asked.

"No...?" Kuroo's eyes darted away.

"You're lying," Futakuchi said flatly.

"I can't tell you, dude. You're, like," Kuroo paused, searching for the right words, "his frenemy."

"Well, it's a mix of friend and enemy for a reason. Just tell me." Futakuchi tried to sound indifferent.

"Since when were you concerned about Oikawa's well being? I thought you two were claiming you hated each other," Kuroo said.

"I don't _hate_ him. He's pretty okay."

The car fell silent at those words and Futakuchi could feel the eyes boring into him. Even Ushijima glanced at him in the rear view mirror. Futakuchi stared at his feet, studying his shoes as if they held the answer to escape the awkwardness.

"I'm _so_ telling Oikawa you said that when he wakes up," Terushima smirked.

"Teru, don't you _dare_ ," Futakuchi hissed.

"Nothing much you can do to stop me," Terushima taunted, sticking his tongue out.

"Maybe I'll tell Ennoshita how you feel about him for you." Futakuchi countered.

"What?! You can only tell Ennoshita how I feel if I'm telling your crush how you feel! We agreed on this! Equal exch-" Terushima cut himself off at the sight of Futakuchi's slightly pink face. " _Oh_. Oh, my god. Bro, you like...? I was saying all those things as a joke!"

Futakuchi slumped into his seat, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. That only made Oikawa lean against him even more, his hair now tickling the edge of Futakuchi's mouth. He dropped his gaze when Kuroo stared, his mind seeming to be going a thousand miles a minute. Terushima broke the silence with a laugh.

"Oh, my god! Mate, you like _him_?!" Terushima snorted.

"Shut up!" Futakuchi said snappily. "He has a boyfriend! Nothing's going to happen!"

Terushima fell silent at that part. "Oh... sorry, man. I keep forgetting about that part."

"Doesn't matter." Except it did. "It's just a fucking crush."

Just a crush? Yeah, right.

A simple crush was already enough to fuck Futakuchi over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am: never attempting comedy again  
> I'm so insecure about the opening scene because I have never written anything remotely comedy and I don't even know if it's funny but yeah there you go. Take my really crappy attempt at writing something funny  
> Next update is a very, very short tournament arc accompanied by my lovable dude Iwaizumi Hajime making his first appearance in the fic (and then you won't see him for a... very... very... long time...)
> 
> Fun fact: I wrote the first scene (the attempted humor) while listening to a slowed down version of Happiest Year by Jaymes Young and then a slowed version of Hold On by Chord Overstreet because I only listen to sad music as I write. Even the fluff


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Futakuchi sees what Oikawa looks like when he's in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE THREE MONTHS PLEASE THIS CHAPTER WAS TORTURE TO WRITE BUT FROM HERE ON OUT I SHALL TRY REALLY REALLY HARD TO PICK UP THE PACE
> 
> Anyways, Iwa says hi in this chapter (and proceeds to disappear for a while because this is about OIFUTA) :) And I chuck more sadness and simping and unrequited pining in Futakuchi's face. Oh, and like OiFuta awkward friendship
> 
> Also if you saw me repost this no you didn't

**102.**

"Oikawa, I have to lock up the gym. Haven't you gotten enough extra practice?" Futakuchi complained as he stepped into the gym.

Oikawa spared Futakuchi a passing glance. "Just give me the keys, I can lock up once I'm done."

"Haven't you had enough practice?" Futakuchi's eyes drifted to the volleyballs littering the other side of the court.

"Don't worry about it," Oikawa said, spinning the volleyball in his hands. "Can you leave the keys by my water bottle?"

 _'Wow. He_ asked _. Not only that, he asked_ politely _.'_ Futakuchi almost laughed. Oikawa had floated off to a different world so Futakuchi didn't bother to make a remark. Instead, he stayed quiet, heading over to Oikawa's water bottle.

Oikawa's shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. His hair was still as usual, outside of the occasional lock of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There was a dark patch on the back of his shirt, sweat soaked and clinging to his skin. His skin had a pink flush, tinted with a gold overlay from the gym lights. Futakuchi slowed to a stop, forgetting he wasn't there to watch. Oikawa closed his eyes and for a moment, he was still. A pristine image, a moment of time. Oikawa Tooru, the natural beauty and devastating supernova.

Then it was over.

Seamlessly, from a still image to a flowing movie, Oikawa tossed up the volleyball. In that one moment of tension before Oikawa moved, he took up all the light in the room. For a second, Futakuchi believed looking straight at the gym lights for hours would be less blinding then the fraction of a second when Oikawa prepared for his run up. Oikawa became the brightest thing in the room, a star devouring too much matter.

With a swing of his arms, Oikawa took his first step forward and Futakuchi saw the start of a supernova, that fraction of a second when the core collapses. Oikawa's eyes stayed on the ball, every movement of his muscles beat into his body with repetition. He leaped, flowing from ground to air, where time seems to pause for a moment to let Futakuchi take it all in. The explosion heading toward the surface of a star, closer and closer and closer and then-

With a sound like thunder in the silence of the gym, Oikawa's hand met the volleyball and the supernova burst.

Futakuchi didn't take his eyes off of Oikawa, letting the ball only be perceived as a loud sound to the side as Oikawa landed on his feet. Oikawa dimmed, light seeping back out of him and into the gym lights above their heads. A weak breath trembled its way out of Futakuchi's lips and he continued his way to Oikawa's water bottle, dropping the keys next to it. He almost tripped when he refused to take his eyes off Oikawa.

Oikawa panted, wiping sweat from his forehead before it could drip into his eyes. There was a slump of fatigue in his shoulders, the intensity in his eyes a sputtering flame. He seemed burnt out.

"Don't overwork yourself."

It took Oikawa staring at him for Futakuchi to realize he said that out loud. _'R_ _oll with it.'_ Futakuchi shrugged nonchalantly, heading toward the door.

"Also, maybe wipe some of that sweat off your face. You look disgustingly sticky."

"Gee, thanks," Oikawa said sarcastically.

As Futakuchi closed the door, he felt Oikawa's eyes trained on him.

**101.**

"Okay, listen up, I've decided the starting line up," Coach Noguchi said, glancing over the group.

Futakuchi mindlessly tapped his finger on his thigh, wishing that Coach would just get straight to the point and name everyone. Terushima was practically bouncing in his spot next to Futakuchi, despite the several times Takahashi had gently reminded him to try to calm down.

"Libero will be Yamada."

Yamada beamed and Yokozawa quietly congratulated him.

"Starting setter will be Oikawa."

Oikawa received a loud clap on the back from Kuroo.

"Takahashi and Kuroo will be the middle blockers."

Oikawa returned Kuroo's clap on the back, except harder.

"Wing spikers will be Enomoto, Ito, and Futakuchi."

Futakuchi didn't get any time to feel anything before Terushima let out a loud whoop, tackling him. Futakuchi fell over, crashing into Kuroo, who let out a squawk and accidentally kicked Yamada, who screeched and jumped onto Yokozawa for protection, startling a squeak out of Saito, who smacked Kawaguchi in the face by trying to blindly latch onto him. Futakuchi stayed leaning against Kuroo and sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Teru," Futakuchi sighed.

"Sorry," Terushima laughed. "I'm just happy for you!"

"Terushima, try to calm down," Takahashi said for the umpteenth time.

"Right. Sorry, Takahashi-San." Terushima hung his head with a pout.

After Coach finished up talking, Oikawa strode up to Futakuchi.

"Ah, Oikawa. To what do I owe the displeasure?" Futakuchi asked.

"I would love to exchange barbed words another time, Futa-Chan," Oikawa said. "The tournaments coming up and you're on the starting line up, so I want you to stay late to practice with me so we can be better synced."

"Wow, not even asking," Futakuchi remarked. "So demanding. But yeah, I can stay late today."

"Great. I'll see you then."

"Right. Because you totally won't see me for all of practice too."

Oikawa shot Futakuchi a glare but opted to simply walk away from that one.

**100.**

The days before the tournament flew by before Futakuchi could really process it. It became a blur of Terushima being as chaotic and dorky as usual and occasional late practices with Oikawa. The first day of the tournament was now a recent memory only living in the present in the slight ache of soreness in Futakuchi's muscles as he moved. They hadn't necessarily been lucky on the first day, being put against two skilled schools. They had made their way into the quarterfinals, it could only get harder from then on.

Futakuchi snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Oikawa's arm brush against his. It was a ghostly touch, but it was also from Oikawa. The person that made Futakuchi want to throw up butterflies, rainbows, and actual vomit. _'Gross.'_ Futakuchi refocused on the floor of the hallway as they walked, side by side, shifting slightly away from Oikawa to put space between them.

"Oh, right! Futa-Chan, guess what?"

"What?" Futakuchi followed the blurry reflection of the lights above his head on the floor.

"It took me forever because I kept forgetting, but I bought a picture frame and now that image I have of you is with the rest."

That made Futakuchi look at Oikawa. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not." Oikawa smiled.

"There's no way you'd actually do that," Futakuchi said.

Oikawa pulled out his phone and Futakuchi watched as Oikawa pulled up a photo of the pictures hanging on his wall. One of them being a picture of himself.

"Believe me now?" Oikawa asked.

"What the fuck." Futakuchi grabbed Oikawa's phone staring at the photo. Futakuchi looked back up at Oikawa. "I'm breaking into your room."

"I keep my door locked, unlike you and Terushima," Oikawa said.

"I'm throwing your phone down this hallway as revenge," Futakuchi declared.

"Futa-Chan! I didn't even do anything bad!" Oikawa reached for his phone but Futakuchi pulled back.

"Dude, I told you to _delete the image_. Not to _print it out and hang it up_. I look dumb as all hell in that image," Futakuchi said.

"But I didn't hang it up to make fun of you!" Oikawa protested.

Futakuchi was completely bluffing about throwing Oikawa's phone (why would he throw it? Then he'd have to _pay_ for a new one. The thought made Futakuchi internally shudder) but he raised his arm to pretend to throw it to mess with Oikawa more. Oikawa grabbed Futakuchi's arm to stop him. Futakuchi stared at Oikawa. _'Oh.'_ The simple touch was enough to make Futakuchi halt, his stomach quadruple knotting and his heart clenching under the grip of a vice. He wanted to hurl when he looked into Oikawa's eyes. HIs inner turmoil went unnoticed to Oikawa, as always.

"Look, look, just hear me out," Oikawa said.

"That's my first time hearing you beg," Futakuchi remarked.

A slow breath slipped through Oikawa's lips, his grip on Futakuchi's arm loosening. It wasn't until Oikawa shifted his eyes downward that Futakuchi realized Oikawa was expressing uncertainty.

"I don't know," Oikawa's usually charmingly bold (more like annoyingly loud, Futakuchi tried to correct himself) voice is more subdued. "We're... friends or something, right? I just thought that it would make sense to have an image of you with the rest. Or whatever."

Futakuchi forgot how to breathe.

What was he supposed to say to that? Well, logically, it would make sense to confirm that he and Oikawa were friends. 

"Wow, for a second there I was almost touched."

To Futakuchi's shock (and also slight confusion), instead of a witty remark, Oikawa pouted childishly.

"Futa-Chan! You're so mean! I'm being honest here!" Oikawa complained.

"Oi, Tooru, are you bothering him or is he bothering you?"

 _'Ah. It's Oikawa's boyfriend.'_ Futakuchi hated how his eyes flickered to the floor. _‘Coward. Look up.’_ Futakuchi lifted his gaze up to look at Iwaizumi. He immediately wished he didn't look. Iwaizumi's eyes were only on Oikawa, with a look of incredible fondness. Futakuchi didn't bother to look at Oikawa. He knew exactly what he would see. Oikawa's grip on his wrist suddenly felt like fire, burning through skin and digging into flesh, but he couldn't find it in himself to pull away. His fingers started to drum on his thigh and he chose to focus on that rather than the Oikawa's burning touch.

"Hajime!" Oikawa's voice held none of the guarded and practiced tone that Futakuchi had grown accustomed to.

It was almost like Futakuchi had seen something he shouldn't have. He didn't deserve to see this Oikawa. The real one. The one that showed up simply under Iwaizumi's presence. This wasn't the Oikawa that he was meant to see. Oikawa had his walls up around Futakuchi for a reason. This Oikawa was meant for Iwaizumi. _'I don't care.'_ Futakuchi took a deep breath but his lungs still felt strained. _'I don't care.'_

"Hey," Iwaizumi smiled and Futakuchi wanted to back away before this got any more affectionate.

"I missed you! We haven't had time to talk recently!"

"I know, idiot. But that's college for you."

"Did you have to throw in idiot?!"

Futakuchi bit his tongue to hold back a remark on how Oikawa seemed to forget how to make retorts when it came to Iwaizumi. It wasn't his place to speak. But the shift from the Oikawa he knew to the one that was now standing next to him was jarring. _'Is the Oikawa I know that different?'_

“How’ve you been?” Iwaizumi asked.

“The usual. Lots of practice to prepare to beat you on court,” Oikawa grinned.

“You wish,” Iwaizumi scoffed. His expression softened as he added. “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

“I won’t, trust me,” Oikawa’s expression was just as tender and gentle.

"So, what's going on here?" Iwaizumi gestured to Oikawa's grip on Futakuchi's wrist.

Futakuchi's eyes flitted from Iwaizumi to Oikawa, wondering if he should respond.

"Futa-Chan here doesn't appreciate my kind and generous act of putting a photo of him on my wall with the rest of the photos," Oikawa sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. "Honestly, he has no idea how he wounds me!"

"If you're trying to guilt trip me, your plan is failing terribly," Futakuchi deadpanned.

"This just proves you're not a decent human being." Oikawa shook his head. "Seriously, you have no idea how to act."

"Says you," Futakuchi scoffed. "Your first attempt at befriending me was sitting next to me at a team outing and ignoring me the whole evening."

Iwaizumi chuckled at that. "I think you failed to tell me about that one, Tooru."

"Hajime!" Oikawa cast Iwaizumi a betrayed look. "Don't side with this heathen!" Oikawa glared at Futakuchi. "And how long are you going to go on about that?! Just give me back my phone before I make you."

"Make me what?" Futakuchi taunted. "You wouldn't want your precious wing spiker to not be on top notch condition before a match, would you?"

"Why you-" Oikawa grabbed his phone and attempted to pry it out of Futakuchi's fingers, his grip tightening on Futakuchi's wrist so that Futakuchi can't pull away.

They tussled over the phone for a couple of moments before Futakuchi let go, deciding it wasn't worth the effort.

"Oh, my poor wrist! You hurt me! Now I can't play the next match!" Futakuchi complained.

"Shut up, I didn't hurt you." Oikawa rolled his eyes.

"You really didn't, your grip is shit." Futakuchi dropped the act.

"Jeez, why're you so mad anyways?" Oikawa pocketed his phone.

"You could've picked a better image than that. Y'know, one that doesn't make me look hideous," Futakuchi said.

"Futa-Chan, sweetie, you always look hideous," Oikawa replied in a faux pitying tone.

"I think you mixed up "I" and "you" right there," Futakuchi smiled innocently.

Oikawa ignored the taunt. "I don't have any images of you besides that one. If it really bothers you so much I can change it later."

Oikawa glanced at Futakuchi curiously when he didn't get a response. Futakuchi stood there, turning the words over in his mind. _'Oh.'_ Futakuchi took a deep breath. _'Oh, he's being nice.'_ Futakuchi gulped, feeling his face start to warm up. _'Fuck. Abort, abort, abort.'_ Futakuchi internally cursed when he realized Oikawa's hand was still holding his wrist. _'Fuck, fuck, fuck.'_ The desire to run was strong enough that Futakuchi was already out of the hallway and hiding in the bathroom in his mind.

"Are you being nice?" Futakuchi looked around. "Where's Teru? I'm scared."

"Futa-Chan!" Oikawa stomped his foot, almost pouting. "I can be nice! I've been nice to you before!"

Futakuchi's laugh came out with a tinge of nervousness. Iwaizumi's eyes suddenly felt like they were boring into Futakuchi's back. _'You're imagining it.'_ Futakuchi told himself. So what if he blushed at little? It's not like Iwaizumi would instantly know he had a stupid crush on Oikawa. He's not that easy to read... right? He felt stupid, really. He was feeling guilty over feelings he couldn't control. It wasn't like he was going to do anything so having a small crush on Oikawa should be fine (and there was no way in hell he could compete with Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa's most trusted partner since childhood, and he knew that). _'Isn't knowing your crush will never like you back supposed to make you stop liking them?'_

Futakuchi pulled his wrist out of Oikawa's grip. "I didn't expect you to be so detached from reality that you think you're capable of kindness."

Oikawa gasped, the most offended look crossing his face. Futakuchi would've laughed, if it weren't for the tension that only he seemed to feel. Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi with a pout, asking for backup. There was an itch in Futakuchi's legs so he took the brief moment to inch away from Oikawa.

Iwaizumi simply sighed. "I swear you two are so alike."

"Don't compare me to him." Futakuchi and Oikawa said in unison.

Oikawa stared at Futakuchi and Futakuchi pretended to throw up.

"I literally hate you," Oikawa groaned.

"You literally don't," Futakuchi batted his eyelashes innocently.

"Alright, Tooru, cut it out," Iwaizumi stepped in.

"He's the one insinuating this!" Oikawa pointed at Futakuchi, eyes accusatory.

"Wow, I'm surprised you know that word," Futakuchi remarked, cursing the twitch in his throat that almost made him stutter.

"I'm surprised you even understand what I'm saying," Oikawa scoffed.

"You two are hopeless." Iwaizumi shaked his head sadly, but an amused smile graced his lips. "As much as I would like to watch, I have to go now."

"Hajimeee!" Oikawa whined, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi's waist.

"What is it?" Iwaizumi leaned into Oikawa's touch, relaxing.

"I love you," Oikawa mumbled.

"I love you too." Iwaizumi pressed a fleeting kiss onto Oikawa's lips.

Futakuchi eyed the hallway, wondering if it was the right time to cave into his desire to bolt away from the sappy scene unfolding before him. Maybe he could outrun the nauseating emotions burning in his stomach. But he stood still, simply averting his eyes yet again. The acid of jealousy starts to slither up his throat and Futakuchi swallows it back. Oikawa stepped back, though there was a wavering hesitation in the movement.

"See you on the court," Iwaizumi grinned.

"Futa-Chan and I are going to drag your team through the dirt," Oikawa declared.

"Ew, don't pair me with you." Futakuchi feigned a look of disgust.

Oikawa copied Futakuchi's expression. "You're right for once in your life. Ew, why did I do that?"

"Ew, why're you agreeing with me?"

"Ew, why're we even talking?"

"Ew."

"Ew."

After a beat of silence, Futakuchi bit his lip but a muffled snicker escaped. Oikawa shoved him playfully, clearly suppressing amusement.

"You're literally the worst," Oikawa complained.

"Your opinion is always wrong so that means I'm actually the best," Futakuchi smirked.

Oikawa sighed, rolling his eyes. "Was that the first time we argued jokingly?"

"When did I say I was joking?" Futakuchi cracked after two seconds of Oikawa's dramatically offended expression. "I'm kidding. But yeah, I think that was the first time."

"You think? You must have a terrible memory," Oikawa remarked.

"Nah, I just like forgetting you," Futakuchi shrugged, ignoring how his subconscious roared with laughter. 

_'_ _You can't even go a couple of hours without thinking about him.'_ His subconscious jeered. Futakuchi ignored it, noting that the worst betrayal usually came from yourself.

"I hate you," Oikawa said.

"Feeling's mutual," Futakuchi said.

Oikawa shook his head and Futakuchi wanted to scoff at how _Oikawa_ of all people acts as if he's more mature than Futakuchi.

"Let's go." Oikawa grabbed Futakuchi's wrist.

The weird, hypersensitive tingling under Futakuchi's skin flared up to the surface under Oikawa's touch. Futakuchi longed to wrench his wrist out of Oikawa's grip, yet at the same time he wished Oikawa would never let go. _'Sappy bitch.'_ Futakuchi's longing turned into a longing to simply kick himself.

"Bye, Hajime!" Oikawa started down the hallway, dragging Futakuchi with him.

Futakuchi glanced back and offered a half hearted wave to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi waved back and Futakuchi turned his attention to matching Oikawa's walking pace.

**99.**

Futakuchi doesn't get nervous often. Nerves of steel is an exaggeration he liked to give himself all the time. But there was an undeniable buzz of excitement and nervousness clashing in his veins every time he steps onto the court to start warm ups. It fizzled under his skin, enough to make him a bit jittery for all the right reasons. Maybe the nervousness was acquainted with something else this time. Futakuchi flexed his fingers, casting a quiet glance to his side.

Oikawa seemed unmoved by any form of nervousness or anxiety. There was only hunger. Oikawa was _starving_. For what, Futakuchi knew, but couldn't quite grasp for himself. Futakuchi could quite confidently say he loves volleyball. But there are different loves. Oikawa's love for this sport was beyond savage to the point it's graceful and mesmerizing. He would go to the ends of the earth to find what he chases after. He achieves making going to the lowest and going savage look like the touch of an angel. Beautiful. A masterpiece. Yet also a beast, almost blinded by what this thing gives him to the point he lives and breathes it. In some ways, Oikawa was truly himself in ways that were only shown on the court. 

_'Or, maybe it isn't even as simple as that.'_ Futakuchi blinked, breaking off the stare he was giving Oikawa. _'It's sad. Even outside of romance, I can't understand love.'_

Futakuchi thought quietly to himself as the team headed towards the gymnasium for their match. He ignored the curious glances of Terushima, focusing solely on watching his own feet guide him.

The gym lights brought him back to reality. He squinted through the glare of the lights, taking in the sight. Glancing back down, he took in the court in front of him and the team getting ready on the other side. The thrill shot up his spine and spread over every cell in his being like a second skin. His feet felt repelled from the floor as if he couldn't stand still a second longer. He snuck another glance at Oikawa.

Oikawa's eyes were fixed on the other side of the court, on one person and one person only. There was a new kind of hunger in his eyes. Focused not on just the sport but also a target. A specific person.

Futakuchi suddenly felt like he could stand still for a few moments.

_'Having a crush on someone isn't just stupid. It fucking sucks.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that: A hundred more numbered "scenes" (some will be super long, some super short, some only a sentence) before IT happens :)
> 
> Hahah I have no idea how college sports work where I live, let alone in Japan so I just followed how tournaments work in Haikyuu... BUT THIS IS AN AU SO TECHNICALLY NOTHING CAN ACTUALLY BE INCORRECT-
> 
> (but still I apologize for any inaccuracies please bear with me I suck at this. I am also Going Through It with doubt for the plot of this story. I know it's an AU but JHJKHSFJ the way I constantly compare it to canon and other people's opinions on these characters and ships...)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Futakuchi stands on the court again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remind me to never, ever write anything involving sports ever again. I don't know how to write this. I hate gym so much that I pretty much have the memories of sports suppressed in my brain. How it feels to play a sport??? Idk

**98.**

Sweat trickled over Futakuchi's eye. He hastily blinked away the sting. The annoyance it triggered only lasted long enough for a quick breath in the whirlwind that was the court. He didn't have the time to focus on trivial things. His eyes darted from one side of the court to the other, following the ball flying through the air with precision. His gaze swiped over the spikers, analyzing who the ball could be going to.

The ball leaves the setter's hand and Futakuchi explodes into motion.

He's the only one who makes it there on time. The only one staring Iwaizumi down over the net. Takahashi leaped in a second late. For a split moment, Futakuchi was soaring in the air. Iwaizumi's smoldering eyes clashed with his. The ball got spiked into the side of his hand, deflecting out and slamming into the ground. Futakuchi dropped to the ground and clicked his tongue in anger. The sting of the ball hitting his hand came after.

The whistle rang through the suddenly still air, signifying the end of the second set. One to one.

Futakuchi sighed, _'Fuck.'_ He let out a heavy breath, cursing the ball for going out of bounds. Or rather, his own slip up and Iwaizumi for spiking so well. He followed his team off the court and off to their bench, where coach Noguchi was waiting for them. Terushima passed Futakuchi his water bottle and threw a towel over his head.

"That was a good effort! You reacted to the set really well!" Terushima nudged Futakuchi lightly. "Trust me, we can win this."

Futakuchi nodded, taking a drink of water instead of actually replying.

Terushima went to talk to Kuroo, giving Futakuchi space. Oikawa slid into Terushima's empty space in a few seconds.

"Futa-Chan, don't mind." Oikawa hesitated before patting Futakuchi on the shoulder.

"I'm not minding." Futakuchi wiped his mouth.

"Please, the scowl on your face is only making you look uglier," Oikawa grinned.

"Shut up." Futakuchi lightly shoved Oikawa.

Oikawa stared at him, smile still on his face.

"What?" Futakuchi asked, a tad self conscious.

"Well, you're not scowling anymore. So it worked! You're not that upset about that point anymore, are you?" Oikawa's smile turned triumphant.

Futakuchi's shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. He didn't stop the smirk creeping onto his face.

"Let's wreck them this set, you cow furry," Futakuchi said.

Oikawa spluttered. "Look, I wore that onesie _one time_ -"

"Yeah, to bring aliens to kidnap you and probably do some weird butt probing-"

"I was drunk!" Oikawa exclaimed indignantly.

"Right." Futakuchi snorted, a laugh escaping him when Oikawa smacked his arm.

He retaliated by ruffling Oikawa's hair, earning a squawk as Oikawa quickly pulled away.

"My impeccable hair!" Oikawa hurriedly attempted to fix his hair.

"Don't worry, it looked ugly anyways," Futakuchi teased.

Oikawa paused before a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "Well if my hair is ruined, yours can't stay untouched."

"Oh fuck no." Futakuchi took a step back and eyed Oikawa warily.

Futakuchi could only evade Oikawa for so long. Oikawa pounced and managed to get an arm around Futakuchi's waist before reaching up and messing up Futakuchi's hair. All the air froze in Futakuchi's lungs as he stopped moving. He usually would've been able to pull away. But instead he stilled under Oikawa's touch, almost obediently. His mind flitted between the feeling of Oikawa's fingers in his hair and the gentle press of Oikawa's arm around his waist. _'He's too close.'_ Futakuchi glanced away.

"Okay, let go." Futakuchi managed to strangle the words out of his traitorous, breathless body.

"Aw, does this bother you?" Oikawa cooed. "Does poor little Futakuchi not like being hugged?"

No, not usually. Physical contact was never an issue for Futakuchi, outside of perhaps the occasional annoyance it may cause. But this... this was different.

It _hurt._

It hurt to be this close to someone and yet feel so far away. To feel someone's arm around you but the first thought that comes to mind is that this person can't like you the way you like them. In a way, stars match Oikawa too well for Futakuchi. Far and out of reach, coming only at night when silence and dark thoughts come to haunt you. Not even the heat of a single star can reach you if you're billions upon billions of miles away. Which Futakuchi was. Oikawa was a constant enigma. Futakuchi hadn't even known him for long, and the Oikawa he knew was one with the walls still up. Only a few brushstrokes of a masterpiece. Like how in the city, some of the stars are masked into invisibility by the artificial lights. This is Oikawa, but at the same time it's not. No matter how much Futakuchi wished to know and understand, he was lost and in a daze under Oikawa's starlight.

"Oh, god, the germs!" Futakuchi said overdramatically. "They're getting on me!"

"I am _not_ letting go until you apologize for that," Oikawa threatened.

"Apologize for what? Telling the truth?" Futakuchi smiled in faux innocence.

"I didn't know you were so misled that you actually believed such foolish thoughts," Oikawa's voice tinged condescending.

Futakuchi ignored Oikawa's words. "Teru! Help! There's a piece of garbage clinging to me!"

"Aw, that's perfectly suited for you," Terushima teased, a laugh bubbling in the back of his throat.

For a moment, Futakuchi reconsidered his thoughts on Terushima's intelligence. Someone as perceptive as Terushima and had known him for so long would know that he wouldn't want any dumb crush he had to be anywhere near him. Or maybe he did, since he found himself drifting towards Oikawa all the time during practice. Okay, so he didn't want to make physical contact with any dumb crush he had. But then again, he hadn't had a crush in over a year. Terushima doesn't know how he responds to a crush. Futakuchi then rememebered that Terushima was quite lovesick and it struck him again.

This concept of romance, this idea that Futakuchi could not understand or desire in any capacity, was something everyone seemed to adore. Romance itself was seen through rose colored lenses. It was something everyone around him threw themselves into wholeheartedly and almost carelessly. It made Futakuchi wonder if he and others were even thinking about the same thing. Where they seemed to see bright colors and endless beautiful possibilities, Futakuchi sees an indescribable entity. Something unknown and murky, ominous in the way it seems to be inevitable. A slowly debilitating poison, killing at the top of an endless high. Or a blinding ocean of liquid colors that tastes of candy as it drowns you. Or a burn that feels like a kiss. That would be Futakuchi's assumptions, but love was so enigmatic he didn't understand what he was looking at when he was staring it straight in the face.

A feeling to look up struck Futakuchi. His eyes met Iwaizumi's gaze. This time, the nervousness that explodes into every cell of his body makes him freeze, holding Futakuchi in place. Oikawa's arms around him are burning against him more than ever before. Earlier was a campfire, this a forest fire. A roaring blaze that made Futakuchi want to run and never look back. Yet he couldn't find it within himself to truly force himself out of Oikawa's grip. Iwaizumi's eyes are unreadable from this distance, blank and seemingly calm. He's the first to look away, turning to talk to a teammate instead.

"Futa-Chan? Is something wrong?" Oikawa's hold became more lax.

It was like a rush of oxygen after breaking through the surface of an ocean. Painful but euphoric.

"What? No, it's nothing," Futakuchi mumbled his way through a lie, stepping back from Oikawa.

"Alright." Oikawa didn't push the topic further, turning away when Kuroo said something to him.

Futakuchi felt Terushima's presence next to him. It's something noticeable, yet expected and in the background, like how it's always warm in the summer. Terushima stayed quiet, letting Futakuchi sink into his thoughts.

The controlled and calm way Iwaizumi stared at him and Oikawa could only signify one thing: jealousy. But that didn't make any sense. That was absurd. It was- No. It didn't make any sense. Why would Iwaizumi ever feel jealous? There was nothing to be jealous of. Futakuchi was stuck under the glow of Oikawa's sunlight, a blindingly bright yet fake front. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi... he lived under Oikawa's endless night sky. Stars mapped out through years spent together and moonlight focused only on him, with the gentleness of long kept love. Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi with the adoration of a worshipper to a god, the intimacy of lifelong partners, the respect of knowing someone inside and out.

Surely Iwaizumi was ingrained in every bit of Oikawa's universe. He was there for as long as Oikawa could remember. Futakuchi could tell by the way Oikawa smiled at Iwaizumi that the rich and flourishing world in Oikawa's mind was filled with Iwaizumi. In Oikawa's mind, Iwaizumi's voice would be calming gusts of wind, the warmth of his touch turning the days into summer, the love in his eyes the color palette of the oceans and skies and mountains.

Futakuchi couldn't ever compare to something like that. It was useless to ever even think he could. Oikawa would never look at him the way he looks at Iwaizumi. Futakuchi sighed.

Terushima's hand brushed against Futakuchi's lightly. His concern showed in the slight downward tilt of his lips and the dimming of the sunlight that spilled around in his eyes. Futakuchi smiled slightly, squeezing Terushima's hand in a brief _I'm fine_ before letting go. He shrugged off the suffocating thoughts and turned his eyes back to the court.

**97.**

The strain of exertion was a constant by this point. Futakuchi took a slow breath, ignoring how it made his lungs burn even more. His arms still stung from the receive he made earlier. Futakuchi looked back from his spot in the front of the net to Terushima, who had been put in as a pinch server. Terushima's eyes met his and Terushima grinned, giving him a thumbs up.

Futakuchi let out a huff of fond exasperation. Terushima was the one about to serve, not him. He should be the one encouraging Terushima. It was match point for them, so messing up here would be missing a chance to finish the game. It should be stressful. But that was Terushima for you, always excited to be on the court.

The sound of the whistle cut through the air with a sharp sound. A spike of more adrenaline Futakuchi didn't know he had in him flooded into his body. His fingers twitched restlessly. The sound of Terushima's hand meeting the volleyball rang in Futakuchi's ears. His senses seemed to suddenly sharpen. The thrum of his heart racing faded away. The burn of his muscles went away. When he breathed in, it felt fresh like wind on top of a mountain. _'Focus.'_

A messt receive made the ball came sailing back to their side of the net. Terushima, in a flash of nimble muscles and quick reaction, received the ball, sending it neatly up into the air in a high arc. Futakuchi backed up, preparing to approach for a spike. His gaze only paused briefly on Oikawa moving to get under the ball. Futakuchi started his approach, running his eyes over the positions of the people on the back row before returning back to the ball falling into Oikawa hands. Futakuchi jumped, drawing a blocker with him. The toss went to Ito. The ball shot into the other side of the court. Closer, closer, and closer to the ground, before it was received by the libero. Futakuchi landed on the ground and quickly assessed the court.

The adrenaline begged him to move, to guess where the ball was going. But the three years of read blocking at Dateko had been beaten into his very core. He stayed still and patient for the excruciatingly long few seconds for the ball to settle into the opposing setter's hands. _'There.'_ The court blurred at the edges as Futakuchi moved.

And there it was. A mirror image of the last point of the last set. Futakuchi was staring down Iwaizumi again. Futakuchi, looking at any clue of where he was going to spike. The thrill was at an all time high. Iwaizumi's eyes focused on an area of the court beyond Futakuchi. _'Cross.'_ Futakuchi shifted his block into the path of Iwaizumi's spike.

The sting of the ball hitting his arm was almost double that of the second set. His body, on a high of energy, kept his block strong. The ball hit the ground on Iwaizumi's side of the court. 

It didn't feel real for a second. Until Futakuchi heard the whistle blow.

Then it came. The exhaustion hit his body but was easily overpowered by the high strung feeling of winning. His teammates were already cheering. Exhilaration. It's raw and overpowering, a feeling of euphoria. Before he realizes it, he's shouting too.

His eyes locked with Terushima's. There's an explosion, a crash, when their eyes meet and the adrenaline rushes faster, faster, faster. Terushima's smile is more brilliant than a collision of a thousand suns, yet nowhere near as burning. It's warm yet fierce like embers of a fire or the cries of youth and rebellion. His laughter once again strikes the image of bubbling soda in Futakuchi's mind. Bursting and rushing out of Terushima's mouth, unbridled and messy. This. This is what makes Futakuchi remember. The whirlwind of first befriending Terushima. The thrill, the spark, the connection. And when Terushima used to stand right in the middle of it.

Something crashes into him.

Warmth. The stickiness of sweat against sweat. The sound of someone shouting into his ear. The already immediately recognizable feeling of Oikawa’s embrace.

Futakuchi's world swivels on its heel and sends him spinning, dizzy, right into Oikawa's world again. Where he was so small under Oikawa's touch. Oikawa's eyes are illuminated by starlight, bright and breathtakingly beautiful. Futakuchi's hands trembled and he couldn't seem to breathe in. He wished he could blame how tight Oikawa was hugging him, but he knew that wasn't the case. After all, Oikawa only needed was a feather light touch to crush the air out of Futakuchi's lungs.

His emotions were clashing with teeth and nail. The loud cheering, the exhilaration of winning, the euphoria of his battered and bruised body coming back to its senses as the match ended. The captivating night sky in Oikawa eyes, the longing to mean something more, the longing to get rid of these useless emotions. It left a bittersweet aftertaste in Futakuchi's mouth.

"Hey!" Kuroo hit Oikawa lightly over the head. "Don't hog the man of the hour! Sharing is caring, Oikawa!"

"I actually would prefer it if I didn't get any more hugs," Futakuchi huffed. "Oikawa is getting his sweat all over me."

Still. Futakuchi probably wouldn't get another chance like this. So slowly, hesitantly, he placed a hand on Oikawa's back in some semblance of returning the hug. Oikawa laughed, as if he recognized Futakuchi's measly attempt at embracing someone. A smile cracked onto Futakuchi's lips.

"Coming in!" Terushima shouted, leaping onto Futakuchi and Oikawa.

The world literally shifts this time as all three of them go toppling to the ground.

"Teru!" Futakuchi groaned as the soreness in his body doubled.

He floundered through their amassed sea of limbs before he found his way to Terushima's hands. Terushima grinned and squeezed Futakuchi's hands tightly. Futakuchi squeezed back, staring into the neon yellow of Terushima's eyes. Home.

"You did it," Terushima whispered.

"Why are we whispering?" Futakuchi whispered back jokingly.

" _Wow_ , I guess I'll never be sharing an intimate moment of bromance with you ever again." Terushima struggled to untangle himself from Oikawa and Futakuchi.

"Dude, it was a joke!" Futakuchi stifled his laughter and attempted to grab Terushima before he could escape.

"Nope. Kuroo-San is my new bromantic partner. Kuroo-San, help me up." Terushima reached out to Kuroo.

"Ohoho, looks like I'm your bromantic rival, Futakuchi-Kun," Kuroo said smugly.

"Please stop saying bromantic," Futakuchi sighed.

Kuroo pulled Terushima up and shot Terushima a wink. Terushima batted his eyelashes and pretended to swoon.

"They're fools, aren't they," Oikawa murmured beside him.

Oikawa's smile was smaller, more graceful but his eyes were just as bright and expressive as before. It stunned Futakuchi into momentary silence to see some of those hidden stars in Oikawa's galaxy come forth. He has enough to piece together some constellations, maybe even a milky way composed of passion and memories for volleyball. Futakuchi would like to call it stargazing, but he was really just being intoxicated by the beauty that he could not have.

"Yeah, they're fools," Futakuchi answers belatedly.

_'And I am too.'_

"How long are you going to lay there?" Kuroo butted in.

"Yeah! We have to line up!" Terushima added.

Futakuchi fought his body's complaints and stood up. He let out a heavy breath and turned to Oikawa.

Oikawa was looking across the net, straight at Iwaizumi.

"Sorry, Hajime, but we won this one," Oikawa smirked.

"Don't worry about it. We'll be winning the next one," Iwaizumi grinned.

"Not so sure about that," Oikawa clicked his tongue. "But we'll see."

"We'll see." Iwaizumi agreed before stepping back and walking to his team.

"C'mon," Oikawa patted Futakuchi on the back, "you're the man of the hour but it's _only_ an hour. Don't spend it dawdling around."

"Right, I have to get you and Kuroo-San to treat me to food and steal Teru's snacks while he can't complain," Futakuchi said thoughtfully.

Oikawa snorted and bit back a laugh as they joined their team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways sorry for the short update. I didn't even realize how short this was until I wrote it


End file.
